A Spark Of Love
by MixItUp
Summary: Drusilla never comes back to Sunnydale in 5x14 "Crush". How does that change things for Spike and Buffy?
1. Chapter 1

A Spark of Love

* * *

><p><em>Drusilla never comes back to Sunnydale, having been completely immolated in Los Angeles. The bogus stakeout goes a little differently, then, but the same basic events ensue. Spike tells Buffy he loves her; she seems disgusted and leaves. Spike returns to his crypt, teary-eyed; Buffy has a heart-to-heart with Joyce and Willow and eventually decides to find Spike to make sure he understands she could never love him. Without Dru's interference, though, things don't go quite the same way…<em>

There was nothing Spike hated more than crying. Emotions were weakness – that had been beaten into him very quickly after he'd been turned. As a human, he'd been nothing but a puddle of sentiment. Bloody pathetic, really. William Pratt had been a right fop, not like Spike at all. Spike was…hard, tough, ready for anything. He didn't like to think of himself as completely emotionless and psychotic like Angelus, but he wasn't a pushover anymore. No one's sissy boy.

He didn't feel very much like Spike right now. Standing in his cold, lonely crypt, crying his eyes out over some _bint_ (he struggled to curse her name, because even now she seemed beautiful to him) – that was William, through and through. He despised it, but the more he thought about it, about _her_, about the look on her face when he told her – tried to tell her – oh, God. _God God God God,_ and he thought it so much that he felt even more like William, earnestly praying for mercy from the Almighty. Pathetic.

But Spike was a demon, and he knew there was no mercy to be found for him – from God or from Buffy. Right now, he had the worst of both worlds, all the pitiful human emotion and all the hopelessness of the lost creature. He wiped at his eyes furiously, as if that would force his emotions from him.

What was he gonna do? It was far from the first time that he'd brassed off the Slayer, of course, but this time seemed different. She had been almost afraid, wary of him like his love was some sort of dangerous contagion. _If only_, he thought wistfully. Still, he'd been mostly content with being by her side as a companion and ally. Hadn't been planning on pushing the issue not for a while yet. It hadn't been that long since Soldier Boy had skipped town, and even though Spike couldn't understand why anybody would be hung up on that bland wafer, he knew Buffy wouldn't see it that way. But she just had to accuse him, ask him questions he wasn't ready to answer.

_God_, he thought again, angrily, pushing over one of the statues that had dared to stand near him. It made a satisfying clatter, but didn't break. He sniffled again, feeling overwhelmingly pitiful. This could not possibly get any worse.

"Spikey?"

He lifted his eyes to the heavens. How wrong he'd been.

Squinting to conceal his tears, Spike turned around to face the other vampire. "Not much in the mood for company, Harm, so if you could just sod-"

"Are you crying?" she asked, interrupting him and looking very much aghast. He glared, which she must have taken as an affirmative – before he could blink an eye, she had wrapped herself around him in an unappealing way, cooing in his ear and making little sighs that he supposed she considered sexy. "Who hurt my little blondie bear's feelings, huh? Do I need to smack 'em around?"

He growled, breaking her embrace and pushing her off of him. She stumbled, not quite falling to the ground. Harmony scrambled to her feet, now a perfect picture of outrage. "You can't keep shutting me down like this, Spikey, it's not _healthy_-"

"Yeah, well, it's not gonna be too _healthy_ for you to lay around this crypt any longer, Harm. I've bollixed things up enough as it is. Your yammering's the last thing I need, probably drive me round the bloody bend." He made a dismissive hand gesture that was probably a lot less threatening than he intended.

Harmony simply looked at him blankly. Spike rolled his eyes. "I'm kickin' you out, yeah? Just sod off. Good-looking girl like you'll find a place to sleep. I'm through with this."

Her lower lip trembled. "You're just saying this because you're _damaged_, boo-boo. If you would just open up – "

"Well, I'm never gonna do that, Harm!" he said hotly, gritting his teeth. She wasn't going to give in without a fight. If Buffy was gonna treat him like the Big Bad, he might as well act like a villain.

Spike ripped the lid off the nearest coffin and lobbed it at Harmony, narrowly missing her (though even he wasn't sure if that was due to his emotional state or deliberate mercy). She stood there resolutely as he hurled curses at her, hands planted on her hips like she was his mum or whatnot. "Spikey, I know you love me –"

"No, I don't."

It was so simple he could have smacked himself. Right in bloody front of him. The only thing that would hurt Harmony was the truth.

"You're just saying that – "

"I'm in love with the Slayer."

It was all Spike could do to keep from laughing at the look on her face. Now it was his turn to endure the insults she threw at him, but he kept a straight, earnest expression until she finally huffed out, taking the broken statue with her.

"And don't think you're ever gonna see _this_ again!" she said pointedly, re-entering the crypt just enough to gesture to her backside. "You're sick, Spike!"

He chuckled to himself as her scent faded. "Bloody right, I am."

It seemed less funny now that Harm was gone, though. Spike was suddenly confronted again with the reality of Buffy's anger. It had been over an hour and she hadn't even shown up to threaten him.

He could take her being pissed off at him, could take her beating the hell out of him, even. But being bloody ignored, like he was some problem that would just go away? It boiled his blood.

What could he do? Couldn't exactly show up at her house, now could he? Didn't want to cause a scene, not with the Bit and Joyce. What if they hated him, too? It'd be more than he could bear, and he already felt like being dust would be a blessing. No, he'd have to wait for her to seek him out. Be the sane thing to do, which was what she _claimed_ she wanted in a partner. Not bloody likely, seeing her taste in men thus far, but he knew that going after Buffy when she was this level of angry was about as smart as sticking your head in the oven.

So he had a couple of options. He could lounge about his crypt, moping and getting as plastered as possible. He could hit up the demon bars, see if he could win a little money or score some information that might put him back in the Slayer's good graces. Or…he could do the graveyards and hustle up a little bit of violence.

Spike felt himself almost smile at the thought. And maybe, just maybe, he'd run into the Slayer while he was out. Wouldn't that be interesting…

* * *

><p>Not even bothering to knock or call his name, Buffy broke down the door to Spike's crypt and let herself in. She strode confidently, like a woman on a mission. Which she was. The mission: make Spike realize you'll never love him and this is all a mistake, resume business as usual. And then, maybe go home and watch a movie. After all, it was still early by Slayer standards.<p>

"Spike?" she said, feeling a little more hesitant now. It was awfully quiet, but she didn't feel any vampy tingles on her neck. She'd been around Spike so much in the past few months that he barely registered on her vamp radar anymore, though, so she descended into the underground part of the crypt. So maybe she was breathing a little more quickly. It wasn't a big deal, it was just…stuff like this made her nervous. She wasn't really good with rejection. Mostly, she was the one getting rejected, at least by guys that she already, you know, loved. It was one thing to turn down some sleazy stranger, and quite another to try to convince a really weird vampire (who, she had to admit, knew her like the back of his hand) that you would never consider being in a relationship with him. She felt…a little gross.

It would have been so much easier if they could have just stuck with the whole trying-to-kill-each-other thing. These weird alliances just made everything…weird.

She kept walking, not bothering to call for him now. It was obvious that he wasn't here, but some mysterious sense of curiosity had seized her. She came in here a lot, of course, but it wasn't like she hung out with Spike for kicks. Unlike her little sister, apparently, which – ew. Still.

Buffy moved closer to an area covered by a curtain, her fingers almost tingling with a dreadful sort of anticipation. She didn't want to – but she did – but she shouldn't –

The decision was taken out of her hands. Something was going on upstairs, and it was definitely not of the good. By the time she had really registered the strangled screams and moans, she was halfway back upstairs. Her heart pounded unpleasantly.

After first ascending, she saw nothing, although her vamp senses were still blaring all the danger signals. Then –

A flash of movement outside the crypt. She leaped after it, tackling the whatever-it-was. It snarled loudly, and Buffy vaguely heard a few muffled yells and loud British swear words from behind her.

The demon she'd pinned was some sort of hideous, slimy dog-like creature. Its tongue lolled out of its mouth as it growled at her, struggling to get free, and that exposed a view of its mouth. She nearly gagged; it was swarming with maggots.

Buffy fumbled for a weapon, but it was kind of difficult to retrieve the stake from her back pocket without allowing the thing to get loose. She swore under her breath.

"What the bleeding hell are you doing, Slayer?" said the non-person she least wanted to hear. She froze up, and the dog-thing took its opportunity to break free of her grasp. To her surprise, it didn't attack, just ran off into the bushes. Now doubly exasperated, she turned to Spike.

"What am I doing here?" she repeated incredulously. "Excuse me, mister, but you're the one playing on my turf! I mean…figuratively speaking. You're in my space...and it's a private, uh, thing…"

It was like she had suddenly lost the ability to say anything resembling English to Spike. She was sure that he would have been making that annoying face and raising an eyebrow at her if he hadn't been so…well, angry.

"Piss off, Slayer. You don't own any of this, least of all me. 'sides, I was doing you a bleedin' favor, believe it or not. That demon that you so helpfully let get away lives up in the caves, I think. Might belong to some vamps. From what I can tell, someone has domesticated it for some reason, which doesn't exactly smell good for the human population of this godforsaken town. A lot of bloody help you've been, fighting the good fight an' getting in my way, but – "

Buffy had stopped listening. "Spike, what if it's got some connection to Glory?" she said, momentarily forgetting her anger and disgust with him. "Can you track it?"

She felt him looking at her, and she finally forced her eyes up to his. He was breathing heavily, odd for someone who didn't need oxygen in the first place, and he looked like a wreck. Part of it seemed to be from fighting – somehow, Buffy doubted that the demon dog-thing was the first baddie Spike had found that night. The other part – she avoided his eyes again, not wanting to see the expression in their depths.

She wasn't ready to see that yet.

"Yeah," he said after a minute, no longer sounding angry. "I can."

"Okay." To her own surprise, her fury had faded as well. This is what she'd wanted, after all. For things to go back to…as normal as they got, for her, which in this case was working with her ex-enemy to possibly save her sister.

They walked in an oppressive silence. Every once in a while, Spike would stop and take a good whiff of the air, then nod authoritatively and continue off, taking strides and forcing her to walk quickly to keep up.

She felt an overwhelming need to say something, so after about ten minutes she remarked, "You were right about one thing."

Spike slowed down, turning his eyes on hers. Buffy swallowed when she saw the vulnerability there. For once, his face was completely open and unguarded, his eyes clearly expressing his emotions so painfully that she almost felt them too. Curiosity, desire, hurt, and that…that she was so afraid of. She blinked rapidly.

Couldn't be. Without a soul…it couldn't be.

Softly, she said, "We do need to talk."

She expected him to reply, "Not really the best time for that, love", or perhaps to snarkily say that "Of course, now you want to talk, after I lay my bleedin' heart on the line", or maybe even just try to confess his love again. He didn't do any of that. Spike just stared at her expectantly, with those eyes.

Her body was tingling in a not entirely unpleasant way. She shivered, and drew her arms around herself even though she knew that wasn't the reason for her sudden chills. Spike seemed too close now, like he was all around her, already touching her even though they were feet apart.

"Not now," she managed finally, looking at the ground. "After. This is more important."

"Yeah," he agreed quietly. There was something in his voice she couldn't quite… "It is. And we're nearly there, pet." He drew aside a branch, revealing the caves

"Great." She tried to make her tone sound all-business. "So let's go."

* * *

><p>He couldn't suss out how the Slayer was feeling. It shouldn't have bothered him, but it did. Normally, he had some idea of what was going on in that pretty little head of hers but honestly, right now, Spike had no clue.<p>

Didn't matter. Shouldn't matter, _couldn't_ matter, because here they were stalking through a cave, after some bloody beastie that might be trained to kill the Niblet. That was more important, he'd meant what he said. Didn't mean he wasn't still thinking about what it was that Buffy wanted to say to him exactly.

"It's close," he said in an undertone, letting his face smoothly morph until it was ready for battle. "Reckon we should split up?"

Buffy shook her head. "As I've learned from Scooby Doo, not a great strategy. Divided we fall. Just…watch my back, in case anything else shows up. Okay?"

She finally looked at him, and he was relieved to see that there was still trust in her eyes. "Don't have to ask, love. You know I'm here for you."

Spike could see her tense, but she didn't reply, just rushed forth into the battle. He tried not to grin. _Yeah, that's my girl_, he thought with satisfaction, even though he suspected it'd never be true.

Way back when, he'd thought nothing could top fighting this Slayer. She was all poetry and painful sunshine, whipping around your body like a bee around nectar and twice as ready to sting. That was before he'd fought _with_ her, at her side.

Fighting alongside Buffy was like having a whole set of extra limbs, only you never quite knew what they were gonna do. Yeah, she had a mind of her own, and she surprised him more often than not, but the innate sense of what she was never left him. She was a Slayer, probably the best one the world had ever seen, but she was also wild. Like him. More like him than anyone he'd ever known, and God, what a rush. To see that look of passion on her face, even though it was bloodlust and not, well, the other kind. Made a bloke feel good.

They danced around the ugly thing, swapping weapons and tangling its legs. Buffy pounced on it; Spike stabbed it. When it reared and scratched his face, she spared him a look (of concern, he hoped), but kept on fighting. The thing had nasty claws, for sure. He tasted the blood running down his cheek. Not poisoned. Buffy was safe – relatively, anyway. He stood and rejoined the fray.

Both of them were in pretty rough shape by the time the slimy demon died. Buffy wiped the sweat from her brow as Spike quickly inspected the cave. "I only smell vampire, lo-Slayer," he corrected quickly, not wanting to push his luck. Not now.

"Yeah, it doesn't look like this salty dog was Glory's pet, after all. Unless she was hiring vampires to take care of it." Buffy sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. She'd been spending too much time with the old Watcher, Spike observed. "It's too hard to understand a crazy person, you know?"

"I do," he agreed readily.

To his surprise, she nearly cracked a smile. "I, uh, didn't really think that one through, huh?"

Spike wanted to say something sarcastic and cutting, but he could feel his mouth spreading into a genuine smile. Buffy's expression brightened, and they were both laughing in seconds, mostly with relief from the battle.

After a minute, she looked down at herself, obviously uncomfortable. He cleared his throat. "Reckon we should get you cleaned up. Can stop by the house if you'd like…or call it a night, I dunno if you – "

"No," she said, sighing. "I – we need to – but getting cleaned up sounds good."

"To Revello Drive it is then," he said stoutly, pushing off from the wall. Buffy moved reluctantly.

"Uh, how about no on that count, too? I don't want to worry Mom and Dawn. We can go back to your crypt. If, uh, that's okay."

He had never heard the Slayer so unsure of herself when talking to him – well, except in the aftermath of Red's little will-be-done spell. She was hiding something, and if he'd been less pathetic, he would have found out what it was. As it was, he just offered a "'Course, love," and they headed off, leaving the already-rotting corpse behind.

* * *

><p>This was pretty much the worst idea she'd ever had.<p>

Quick thinking was maybe not Buffy's strong suit, okay? She'd had to come up with some way to throw Spike off the trail of the house. It would be major ickiness if he came over just to find out that he'd been uninvited, and really, it was just a precaution, anyway. He'd been almost normal tonight, and she found that she didn't really want to exile him from her life, but she also didn't want to put her mom and sister in danger. Part of her felt that Spike would never do them harm, but another part was reminded of how he'd been when they first met and then she wasn't sure.

Anyway, she hadn't had time to think it through and realize that going back to his place to get cleaned up meant taking a shower. With Spike in the next room. And, to make matters worse, she didn't exactly have a change of clothes on her that weren't completely covered in blood and demon goo, so she was going to have to borrow a shirt from him. _The award for best planning goes to_…

She sighed and scrubbed more vigorously. At least he had rigged up a shower in here, even if the situation left a lot to be desired. The stench of rotten flesh still clung to her skin – she'd gotten the brunt of the goo spew when the slime thing had kicked the bucket. Of course. Absolutely nothing could go right tonight.

Emerging from the shower, she realized that he didn't exactly have any towels. She peeked around the corner, where the bed was, but saw only sheets and discarded clothes. Buffy tugged on her pants anyway, and slid Spike's shirt over her head. It was soft, and black (of course), and it smelled surprisingly wonderful. Once again, her heart rate was pounding, and she didn't want to consider why.

She balled up her discarded shirt and relocated to the other room. It felt too small, somehow, to hold her and Spike in it, so she looked away from him as if that would give her more air.

"I'll take that," he said, referring to the smelly blouse. He had changed, too, into a navy tee-shirt, and she almost blushed when she realized she was admiring the way it clung to his upper arms. Embarrassed, she handed him the item of clothing, which he threw into an obscure corner with his own articles.

"Uh, thanks."

_Brilliant wordsmithing_, she thought angrily. What was wrong with her? Why couldn't she just…be normal?

Because nothing was normal, and she had a feeling that it really wouldn't be again.

Buffy toyed with her hands. Spike was slouched into an armchair, and he gestured for her to take the other seat. She moved a little too hurriedly, and almost fell into the sofa. Righting herself, she tried to act casual.

"So, about earlier…"

He looked at her expectantly. She noticed that, despite the cool air he was obviously trying for, one of his fingers was tapping very quickly against his thigh. Buffy felt the strange need to swallow.

"Yeah?" he prodded, catching her eye. She struggled not to look away.

"I might have…overreacted. I mean, maybe I'm blowing this out of proportion, right?" Her toes had picked up the same rhythm as Spike's moving digit. "I probably wouldn't have freaked so much if Dawn hadn't…"

"Dawn?" he said, sounding surprised and impressed. "Well, well. The Niblet figured me out, did she? A regular little Harriet the Spy."

"Yeah, well…I didn't want to believe her."

She wasn't looking at him, but she could almost feel his disappointment. "That so?"

"Yeah," she said, suddenly full of righteous fury. Buffy sat up a little straighter. "It is so. I mean, how would you feel? Say you're the Slayer, right? Just doing your duties, trying not to get your sister killed by a crazed hellgod, when all of a sudden this vampire – who tried to kill you like, two months ago – decides to up and declare his love for you? Oh, and let's not forget to mention that the last time you got involved with a vampire it nearly ended the world. So how would you feel, Spike? Hmm?"

His blue eyes were completely taken aback, but he leaned toward her as he began to speak. "Well, I imagine I'd be pretty shaken up a bit, like you were. Completely reasonable under the circumstances, I see that now. But…I'd get away from the situation, think about it a little bit, and realize that not all vampires are the bloody same, yeah? Sometimes people just need a second chance."

"You're not a people," she said automatically.

"What does that mean? I've got a heart – may not be beating, but it's there and it's sure as hell capable of breaking…and of loving. Your soldier boy was human, and we both know he had his flaws. Buffy…"

She couldn't look away now, too mesmerized by the look he was giving her. Buffy couldn't sort out her feelings, but she knew that something was stirring in her. If she hadn't already been under a vampire's thrall, she probably would have wondered if this was it.

* * *

><p><em>This is it, William<em>, he thought, not feeling nearly as brave as he wanted to. _No turning back_.

"Buffy," he said, pouring every last bit of sentiment he had into those syllables. No telling if he'd have another chance to show her how he felt. "Love, if you don't want to be with me…if it really disgusts you, I won't be some hanger-on in your life. If you want me to be your fighter, I'll do that. Doesn't mean I'm giving up on you. I want you too much to do that. So if you really don't want me, and never will, okay. But…Buffy, if there's some part of you that could see…maybe, someday…if you're thinking about what's right, or wrong, or bloody Angel, or what your friends think, then I want you to see that we could be good together."

She looked at him, and for the first time in a very long time, he felt as if he was really being looked at, not through. Like he mattered; like she could see him. Her eyes were pained, but not angry, like it hurt her just to be around him.

"Spike," she said. "I…I can't. It would be…wrong, so, so, wrong, and I can't even believe I'm thinking about this and – and listening to you say that –"

She stopped. He had a feeling that her saying it would really make her realize it was real. "That I love you," he finished for her. Buffy nodded shyly.

Spike understood, he really did. "I know it's wrong. But, at the same time…it feels right, yeah? Tell me that when we were fighting earlier, you didn't feel like we do it perfectly together." He couldn't help but let his voice dip a little lower on the last few words. A little seduction never hurt anybody, and he could already tell she was being affected by his presence.

She glared at him for the innuendo, but her look lacked her earlier fire. "That's different, Spike."

"Why?" he countered.

"I don't know, it just _is_. Just because you're willing to fight with me doesn't mean you're willing to be good for me. With me. I can't take that risk."

Her lips were almost trembling with some sort of emotion, although her expression was almost stoic. She had curled over the couch, draping her legs over the arm comfortably. She was so close to him now…but to touch her would break the spell. She'd realize who she was talking to, where she was. He'd lose her.

"Buffy."

She didn't look at him.

"I love you," he said again, gently. Almost singing it. The first time, she'd needed to hear it. Now, he needed to say it. "You know that now, love. There's no ignoring it."

Buffy crossed her arms, still glaring at a space three feet away from him. "I can just ignore you."

"How well do you reckon that'll work out, hmm? Especially with this nasty hellgod on the loose. You need me, pet. I just need you to tell me as what. What am I to you?"

She shifted her glare to his face, and if he'd still been William Pratt he certainly would have shrunk back from that stare. "As of now, you're a pain in my ass. I can't be with you. Stop feeling this way."

"One kiss."

Buffy brought her legs back to her body, rocketing with shock. Spike grinned rogueishly. "No!" she said feverishly. "There will be no kissing or any other body part touching here, thank you very much!"

"Just one kiss," Spike repeated. "After that, you can have as long as you like to think on it. Or you can tell me now that there's no part of you that wants this, and really make me believe it. One or the other, Buffy."

"I've already kissed you."

Was that really her only objection? He searched her eyes as he waved his hand dismissively. "That was a spell. Doesn't count, love."

"Fine. You're nothing to me," she said fiercely, looking into his eyes. "I hate you."

It stung, admittedly, but it wasn't anything new. Besides, and he chuckled, "You're gripping that chair arm awfully hard there, sweetheart, and I can feel your heart rate going up. You're considering it, aren't you?"

"No!"

He raised an eyebrow.

Before he knew it, she was out of the couch and standing over him. "I should stake you right now, Spike," Buffy muttered, eyes sliding over his body in a way he understood.

"You should," he agreed.

"I'm just doing this to shut you up."

Her voice was rougher and gentler at the same time. He loved it. He'd never heard her make such a sound. "Of course, love," Spike said.

She kissed him.

He had been dead for over a hundred years, but the second they kissed it was like he'd rediscovered his need for oxygen in her. He gasped her in like a dying man, and all of her hesitation seemed to disappear as soon as their lips touched. She was everywhere, blonde hair tickling his neck and legs lightly wrapped around him, fingers on his arms barely touching him like she could disappear any –

"I can't love you," Buffy whispered into his mouth, breaking his train of thought.

He leaned further in and replied, "Love, I think you've already started."

She flew off of him, pressing a finger to her lips, which were swollen from kissing. Buffy stood for a moment like a statue, looking like the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. Then she was gone.

* * *

><p>Getting back to the house was fine. Sneaking in her window was fine. But when she went to strip off her clothes, she hesitated.<p>

Maybe he was right. Maybe she was starting to feel _something_ for him. Or maybe her life was just crazy right now, and his shirt was soft, and she needed some comfort.

She fell asleep and tried not to dream of blue eyes.


	2. Chapter 2

A Spark of Love

_Chapter Two_

* * *

><p><em>Previously: <em>After finding out about Spike's feelings, Buffy goes to confront him, but they are distracted by a demon. They return to the crypt to clean up, because Buffy didn't want him to know that she had uninvited him from her house. Spike challenges her to kiss him; she does, but claims it means nothing.

* * *

><p>Buffy rolled over, trying to block out the persistent sunlight. She didn't want to face the day just yet, not when her bed was oh-so-comfortable. Plus, to get up would mean leaving the really yummy dream she'd been having that was already starting to fade from her mind. She remembered wrapping her arms around a strong, cool, familiar body –<p>

_Oh, God_. She sat up suddenly, rubbing away the goosebumps that were crisscrossing her arms. She hadn't just dreamed of Spike. No way.

It wasn't like it was the first time, if she was perfectly honest with herself. Not by a long shot. Still, after the events of the night before, it felt extra-wrong with a dose of this-can't-be-happening.

He was wrong. _This_ was wrong. She couldn't – she didn't – have any feelings for him whatsoever. She would rather admit that Riley had been right and she did have some kind of weird vampire fetish than face the fact (no, not fact, because it wasn't true!) – the impossibility that she could ever feel something for Spike that wasn't disgust.

Buffy rushed to the bathroom, desperate to scrub any remnants of Spike from her mouth. She couldn't get there fast enough.

"Hey, watch it!"

Dawn crossed her arms and gave her best glare. It _was_ pretty impressive – a lesser Slayer might have quelled. Buffy gave as good as she got, though.

"What are you in such a hurry for, anyway?" her sister asked, looking suspicious. Buffy avoided her penetrating gaze.

"I just needed to brush my teeth, that's all. Mind your own beeswax," she said, realizing after she said it how dorky the phrase was. "Not that you keep bees or whatever."

"Like you'd know if I did! You're never here. I could be keeping a whole house of bees!"

It didn't take a genius to detect the bitterness in Dawn's voice. She was teasing, sure, but she definitely meant it at the same time. Buffy sighed and put her hands on her hips. "Look, Dawn –"

But her sister's eyes were no longer glaring. Instead, she was inspecting Buffy's outfit. "Where did you get that?" she demanded accusingly.

Suddenly self-conscious, she folded her arms over the offending tee as if she was trying to hide it. This didn't do any good, natch. Once Dawn latched onto something, she didn't give up.

Her sister's eyes narrowed. "That's Spike's. That's Spike's shirt! And you're wearing it!"

"It's not Spike's," Buffy muttered. She could feel her face heating up. It felt like she was being spotlighted.

Dawn made a noise of disbelief, sounding like she just walked out of a Hilary Duff movie. "Uh, yes it is. I can smell the smoke from here. Oh my _God_."

"It's not what you think."

"Oh my _God_."

Buffy wasn't sure whether Dawn was disgusted or impressed, and she didn't really want her to be either. In fact, she felt like thinking about Spike for another millisecond would definitely explode her brain – or maybe her face, from blushing. "It's really not," she insisted. "There was helpage, that's all. Everything's back to normal."

"The kind of normal where you're wearing his clothes," Dawn said dryly. There was a keen look in her eye, but she shrugged. "I don't really care what you do to or with him or whatever. Just don't drive him away, okay, Buffy?"

She gaped at her sister. "Drive him away? Since when do I drive – I don't even drive, much less –"

Dawn was still giving her that look she hated, so Buffy pushed past her. "I just needed to brush my teeth," she mumbled, slamming the door behind.

Why was it that she suddenly felt like the little sister? She knew what she was doing…or, in this case, what she wasn't doing. Ever. She'd been down the dating-a-vampire road, and it had driven her around the bend. Was that a mixed metaphor?

Ugh. Mornings.

She tried to brush her teeth and go about her routine like usual, but Spike kept popping back up in her head like an unwanted…well, Spike. He was always doing that. It was like he knew exactly when she least wanted to see him.

_He does come in useful sometimes_, Buffy mused. Like when he'd taken care of Dawn and her mom, or when he'd been in her house for some weird (ew) reason (_eww_) that she didn't want to (_nope nope nope_) think about. At all.

And that kiss…

She nearly ripped Spike's shirt in her hurry to get it off of her body. She was in for a rough one.

* * *

><p>Spike was all for rough nights, but his idea of a good one usually involved a lot more nudity and a lot less falling out of bed after rolling over for what seemed to be the thousandth time. Every time he drifted off, his dreams would turn to Buffy, but the pleasant part was always ruined by her pushing him off and walking away.<p>

Groggily, he realized that one of these half-remembered dreams was actually the reality of the night before. He stood, stretched, and let his face break into a satisfied grin.

She might have left, but she did kiss him. And…(this was the really good part)…she had _loved_ it. Didn't take a vampire to sense that – her enjoyment had come off in dizzying waves.

'Course, she was awfully brassed off now. Probably would take her a few days to come around, but then, he'd thought that the night before until she showed up in front of his crypt telling him they needed to talk. Maybe it wasn't so hopeless.

He couldn't keep leaving it all up to the Slayer, though. Spike loved a woman in charge – and Buffy was definitely capable of dominance – but he needed to show her that he could step up too. He hadn't really, properly, chased a bird since his human days (and he'd been too pathetic of a wanker back then to do anything but stare longingly and write poetry), but he'd seen it done enough. Just needed to be there, where she was. Show off his good traits. He hoped he still had a few of those left.

But where would she be? Patrolling, of course. That was a bit cliché, though. Not to mention she needed to see him outside of the work environment, yeah? Show how he could be in a boyfriend role. So where did the Slayer take her boy toys?

Well, to the Bronze. He'd tried that a couple of days ago, and it hadn't gone so hot. Captain Cardboard had spent a fair load of time at Buffy's house, but he didn't want to seem like he was pushing his boundaries with Dawn. Joyce liked him, though. Might swing by when the Niblet would be out, show that he cared about Joyce, too.

Then there was the Magic Box, but he didn't want to give the Watcher more ammo, either. Maybe in a couple of days.

He remembered, suddenly, running into the Slayer at a frat party back a year or so. She'd been with some wanker who hit her and quit her within a couple days, and Spike had been with…Harm. God, what a night that had been. Back when he could still fight the Slayer. What a rush. Couldn't compete with kissing her, though. Nothing could compete with kissing the Slayer. She melted into his mouth, hotter than fire. Even the slightest taste was intoxicating, as proven by his restless night.

By rights, he shouldn't have been up before sunset, but it was barely noon. What could a vamp do to pass the time? There were always daytime soaps, but Spike was almost itchy with nervous energy. Kissing the bloody Slayer was like having a go with an electric socket. He was _wired_.

So he'd find out if there was a party sometime soon, and if so, whether the Slayer was going. If she wasn't…well, he was still a little evil, yeah? He'd spread a rumor around about some sacrifice or whatnot going on at the party and she'd be there in a blink. If she'd been any other college student (or ex college student now, as she'd returned home to care for her Mum) then he would've just advertised the free beer, but Slayer priorities were a bit different. Not to mention he'd heard about the time she'd gotten smashed last year and gone all Cave Buffy. Wouldn't have minded seeing that, to be honest. She didn't show off her feral side nearly enough.

Spike finished pulling on clothes and started gelling back his hair, which had become wild and curly in the night's tosses and turns. Once he felt satisfied with its level of tameness, he started off toward the tunnels.

Willy's was his first stop. After knocking down a pint (if he was going to be up this bloody early he might as well enjoy himself), he showed off his bumpies and hit up a couple of local demons.

"Oh, look, it's Spike!" one particularly ugly specimen, a Miyragor demon, said, with an obnoxiously loud snort. "The Slayer's lapdog! Tell me, boy, does she feed you well? Take you on walks?"

"Well," Spike replied mildly, "in exchange for my _numerous _talents in the bedroom, she occasionally lets me take out piss-for-brains scum like you." In one fluid motion, he slammed the demon's head into the counter. God, he hoped he'd get a couple of splinters at least. Didn't really want to kill the bloke – they'd played poker together more than once, and Spike could usually win against him. Just wanted to put a little fear into him, was all.

It worked – the demon began leaking a blue, somewhat sludgy substance from his pores as he whimpered pathetically. Spike wrinkled his nose, but didn't comment.

"I'll let you live if you tell me about the local nightlife tonight," he said, loudly enough for the other few customers to hear. "The _human_ nightlife, mind you. Is there anything going on somewhere that isn't the bloody Bronze?"

The Miyragor did his best to shrug. "I dunno, man, I'm strictly vegan now, and boy does it feel great. And hey, what's the point in hanging out with humans if you can't gorge on their dandruff, am I right?"

With one last, testy glare, Spike released the demon and wiped his gooey hands on his duster. He scowled at the rest of the bar's patrons. "Well? Any of you wankers keepin' up with the times?"

One timid fledge raised her hand. She couldn't have been more than fourteen when she was turned, and she was so excited to talk to a master vampire that she kept slipping into vamp face even as she spoke. "I heard that there's this, like, _legendary_ party tonight. My, um, my sire-boyfriend and I are going, it's gonna be so grea-"

"Where is it?"

She brushed a few stray brunette strands from her face as she recited an address. Spike stole a pen from a passed-out vamp at the bar and wrote it on his hand.

"Much obliged, pet," he said amicably, capping the pen and slipping it into his pocket. "I'll do you a bit of a favor, too. You and your boyfriend stay away from the party, yeah? Spend the night in, rent a movie or something."

The fledge pouted. "Why?"

"I think I'm gonna take the Slayer on a bit of a date, and I don't reckon she'd much appreciate another vamp gettin' between us." Spike flashed the fledge another grin, gave the Miyragor a two-finger salute, and left.

* * *

><p>"Oh, hey!" Willow said perkily as Buffy strode in. "Here to put a little slay in your day?"<p>

Buffy smiled, distracted. Not behind the counter, not stocking shelves, and she couldn't hear anyone in the back…"Where's Giles? I thought we'd get some quality training in. What, did he ditch to catch a movie or something?"

"He stepped out," the witch replied vaguely. "Anyhoo, this gives us time to catch up. How'd it go with – y'know – the whole Spike-crushing thing?" She leaned in conspiratorially, eyes lighting up.

Buffy swallowed. Again. It felt like she was some kind of weird snake-thing trying to swallow a whole egg. She'd seen one do that at a zoo when she was about eight and it had stuck in her brain for some reason. Maybe she'd always had a pull to the dangerous. To the…the _wrong_ and…_impossible_, and no, she wasn't gonna kiss Spike again.

Probably.

She suddenly realized that Willow was still looking at her expectantly. "That good, huh?" her friend said dryly.

Buffy bit the inside of her cheek. "No, no, it was – fine. We're fine."

"Fine? What did you do, just beat him up until he was all, 'Hey, I don't bloody like the bloody Slayer'?"

"Uh, well, actually I – "

But before Buffy could scramble for some sure-to-be-terrible lie, the door swung open and Giles entered, carrying a large paper sack. She breathed a sigh of relief.

"Giles, here, let me get that for you," she ordered, hopping up and taking the package from him, easily holding it over one shoulder. "You sit down and have some leaf water or whatever it takes for you stodgy British types to get all hyped up for training, because I am totally jazzed this morning." She gave him her best winning smile as she set the sack down on the table.

"Er, well…thank you, Buffy. I think I'll just have a bit of coffee, if you can contain yourself long enough for that." Giles said the last part under his breath.

"I know you've been all about the motivation lately, Buffy, but you sure seem extra pep-tastic this morning," Willow commented, flipping absently through one of the spell books she'd removed from the brown bag.

The Slayer laughed, not a little nervously. "Well, you know me. I just had a big old bowl of…pep…this morning. Start the day off right."

Honestly, Buffy just wanted a safe space to work off all of this completely non-Spike-related tension. And also to get away from prying Willow eyes. She was suddenly very grateful that she hadn't mentioned the whole Spike sitch to her Watcher. The last thing she needed was another pair of perceptive eyes that she could almost feel seeing right through to the events of the night before.

It's not like she should be feeling this guilty. She kissed him, that was it! It wasn't like it was her first time kissing a vamp. Hell, it wasn't even her first time kissing Spike, thanks to Willow's magical intervention last year.

So these guilty feelings were silly. She was silly, for making such a big deal out of it. She had just been proving a point to Spike, and now the point was proven. 101%. She didn't want him, she wasn't going to kiss him. She wasn't even going to think about how his lips were really nice and full and soft, or the way he had been surprisingly gentle but passionate, or how it had barely been a kiss, not really, so it didn't even count, which meant she could totally break down his door and say that they should have a free trial. Then he'd do that little seductive smile and that _thing_ with his tongue that sent little bits of electricity through her body, and then they'd be kissing, just wrapped up in each other and not talking. Well, except he could maybe say her name every now and then, in that husky kind of tone he had sometimes. That would be okay.

"Hey, Buffy."

She blinked herself out of her not-at-all-Spike-related fantasy world to see Tara in front of her. Buffy offered her friend an apologetic smile. "Hey!"

"Sorry, you seemed spaced, but I had just been, um, reminding Willow about this p-party we were invited to, and I, uh, wondered if you might want to go," she said, twisting her hands a little. Buffy realized that Tara still wasn't used to initiating Scooby plans. She wasn't really in a party mood, but for Tara's sake…

Plus, vampire-free zone.

"Yeah, sounds like fun! We can, uh, gather up the whole gang. Just hang out and stuff. It'll be fun."

Buffy wasn't really sure who she was reassuring anymore, but Tara smiled awkwardly again and disappeared into the back room.

Training was…interesting. She was a little off her game.

"Buffy, really! Are you even paying attention to what I'm saying?" Giles asked finally, wiping sweat from his brow in exasperation.

"Yeah! Well…kind of. Could you maybe repeat like the last…four paragraphs?"

Even the winning smile couldn't save her this time. Giles gave her his trademark Fatherly Sigh and took a seat on the bench. "Is this about Spike?"

It was like all the air was sucked from the room, which somehow caused all of her blood to rush directly to her head. "What? How did you – What?"

Giles cleared his throat and looked at her. She superstitiously tried to clear her mind of all the _baddirtywrong_ vampire fantasies currently crawling across her synapses. Or between. Whatever. She had barely passed intro Psych anyway, and the fact that her professor had been a crazed psychopath murdered by her own cyber-Frankenstein hadn't really helped matters.

"Joyce called me," he explained gently. "While you were out. She didn't tell me the details, but, well, I could hardly say I was surprised. It does provide quite a context for his more…selfless behavior of late."

Buffy looked away. "Yeah, I guess it does."

"I know that Spike has been lending a hand lately. If you need me to, well, pick up the slack in any way, I would be happy to."

She gave him a grateful smile, but shrugged off the offer. "It's really okay, Giles. Five by five – okay, so I still don't know what that means, but anyway. We talked it out."

Giles looked taken aback, and not a little skeptical. "The somewhat psychotic, leashed vampire who spent years trying to kill you falls in love with you and – you 'talk it out'?"

"Well…sometimes he can be reasoned with."

* * *

><p>"I'm not going to be bloody reasoned with!"<p>

Spike glared fiercely at the well-meaning demon. Clem stood there awkwardly, slipping his hands into the folds of his skin like they were pockets.

"Well, I'm just saying, you know, maybe give her a little space," he said, frowning.

Spike scoffed. Like he'd ever take advice from Clem, especially in matters of the heart. He was a nice bloke, all things considered, but he was about as assertive as a plate of Jell-O. "I can't do that," he said, like he was talking to a child. "She'll listen to her little gang and before I know it, ol' Spike will be out on his duff. I've gotta make my move and show her that I'm worth a second go, which means I have to get to that party…"

Clem held up his watch helpfully.

_Balls_.

"Five minutes ago. It's been lovely, give my best to your mum."

"Good luck!" Clem called after him. "I'll tape _Dawson's Creek_ for you!"

He could smell the party before he opened the door. Cheap beer, cheap perfume, and sweat. Like a bloody potpourri of Californian college students. Some preppy kid opened the door and invited him in without Spike even having to ask a thing.

He chuckled to himself. Lucky for them that he wasn't a danger to humans anymore. Honestly, how could anybody in Sunnydale be so daft as to invite a stranger in their house?

Spike quickly scanned the crowd. Seemed Scooby-free. His stomach clenched. If she didn't show up…

He would have watched the whole bloody evening and made Clem tape _Dawson's_ for nothing. Screw it. Wasn't like he'd had any big plans for the night anyway. At least here they'd have some tasty food, although he wasn't going to count on them having any booze worth drinking. Spike made his way over to the little snack bar, where a few awkward-looking twentysomethings were hovering around the chips and dip. He ignored them and went straight for the hot wings.

God, nothing had changed since his day. The women wore shorter skirts and the men (if they could be called that) were in sandals. The music was louder and played by a DJ. Other than that, it could have been a carbon copy of an evening at the Underwoods', or any such family. He could spot it right over there. Nerdy bloke, lovely girl, in the corner. She was talking to him, all right, but any idiot could see that she was gazing at some other wanker, who was lovestruck over some other bird. It was laughable.

What was even more laughable was how well he fit in. Over a hundred, and here he was staking out a party just to see if some woman who acted as if she didn't care would show up. Oh, but he was pathetic.

He was shaken from his introspection (_not_ brooding, dammit!) by the unpleasant sound of a very familiar voice. At that moment, it might have been angels singing or what all, because he felt himself smiling. Xander Harris was here. That meant…

"Ooh, Buffy, there are the snacks!" rang out Red's cheerful voice. His smile grew just a little wider as the three girls drew closer, Buffy flanked by Willow and Tara. "And the drinks and the…"

"Spike," Buffy cut in, glaring. It looked gorgeous on her, like everything did, and her little ensemble tonight was just the icing on the cake. "Who really, _really_ shouldn't be here."

His first instinct was to snipe right back at her, but the look in her eyes gave him a bit of pause. That wasn't pure hostility shining in her eyes, like he expected. She looked pissed off enough, sure, but she also seemed almost vulnerable. Was she afraid of having her mates find out that she'd been kissing the Big Bad?

Spike gave her his best adoring smile – didn't take much to conjure one up, thinking about her kissing him again. "You're right, Buffy," he agreed readily. "I shouldn't be here. I just got a bit…lonely. But…I should go, yeah? Not my place. I just thought…"

She frowned at him, like she was trying to pick out his ulterior motive. _Good luck, Slayer_. "Thought what?"

He cut his eyes obviously to Red and Tara, who were watching raptly. "Thought you might want to talk about the other night, lover," he said, all innocent and _sotto voce_.

_Oh yes_. That was it. The Slayer turned a fiery red. "Excuse me?" she hissed, eyes flaring. "Noth – don't call me – _urgh_." She grabbed him by his jacket collar and pulled him to a more remote corner of the room, only sparing a quick glance back at the other Scoobies.

He'd been so long with enhanced hearing that he couldn't guess if they'd heard what he said or not, but Buffy was obviously invested in keeping her friends in the dark. So, just to brass her off, he leaned in intimately. "Couldn't stay away, eh?"

"Spike!" Buffy shoved him away, and he thanked whatever deity didn't hate him too much for his grace in that moment as he narrowly avoided falling into a couple of co-eds. He regained his balance and raised an eyebrow at the Slayer.

"That was weak. Just don't have the heart to be mean to me anymore, do you?" he teased, licking his lips. Spike could feel her tense up.

"What do you want?" she asked through gritted teeth, folding her arms.

Spike mimicked her pose, but allowed his face to drop into a seductive expression. "Oh, baby, I think you already know."

"Okay, number one – that kiss didn't mean anything, and it never happened, and we're never talking about it again because it never happened. Got it? Number two – if you think I won't kick your ass in a room full of strangers, you're dead wrong. This conversation is over." She started to turn.

He caught her arm gently. She looked at him, surprised, but didn't remove him.

"So if the kiss didn't mean anything to you, I guess you'd just, what, throw me out a window if I tried to kiss you now?"

* * *

><p>She could have sworn that her blood froze. It was like she'd directly deposited about a dozen Popsicles into her veins.<p>

Buffy tried her best to recover. "I wouldn't have to, because you wouldn't try."

"Ooh," he said under his breath. How could he even do that? He was a vampire, vampires didn't need to breathe. Spike sure breathed a lot for an undead person…thing. Thing, not a person. Yep, denial!Buffy was back. "Is that a challenge, pet?"

She suddenly thought a lot of words that she would never use around Dawn. "No, nope, definitely not," she said quickly.

"Sure sounded like one to me," he mused, reaching up to tangle his hand in her hair. She swallowed and looked over at the Scoobies. They all seemed to be distracted by a very pretty girl – Willow and Xander, in particular, seemed interested in looking at her for as long as possible.

Not that that would make this okay. It was still _Spike_, and she was still _Buffy_, and right now she wanted nothing more than to be pressing her lips to his, weirdness be damned.

But…she wasn't just Buffy. She was also the Slayer, and she wasn't going to repeat the badness of her junior year of high school just to get some smoochies. Only it would be times ten because, hello, _Spike_. Already soulless and evil (even if he wasn't very good at it anymore).

She pushed him away, seriously this time. He looked disappointed, but he didn't try to stop her. Buffy left wordlessly, struggling with every step not to look back at him, knowing what his face would look like.

_It's just lust. He's just a dumb vampire and once I meet a real guy, one who can _be _with me and_-

She heard screams.

Her first instinct was to turn back and look at Spike, who had lost the kicked-puppy look and now appeared as confused as she felt. He raised an eyebrow; she shrugged slightly.

The sound of broken glass.

Buffy whirled and ran, vaguely aware of Spike's footsteps following hers. The pretty girl the others had been talking was standing there in front of the window, and a bloodied body was just visible on the outside.

"Keep her from going anywhere," she ordered. Spike nodded.

Buffy leapt out the window, heart beating like a million times a minute. This was all her fault, so caught up in…_talking_ to Spike that something like this happened practically right under her nose. Well, okay, behind her back, but still. In her general vicinity, and she was the Slayer, and it was bad. And wrong, and proof that Spike was bad news. Not that she needed proof. Obviously.

The man was pretty seriously hurt, but not dead. More tellingly, he didn't have any bite marks or other defining marks. He just looked like he'd had the crap beaten out of him, by fists. Small fists.

Buffy clambered back into the room full of madness. Spike was on the floor, a little bloody but not too much the worse for wear. She strode up to the girl, who on closer inspection appeared to be a robot.

"Hey, can you maybe just calm your – whoa."

She narrowly ducked a punch Robo-Girl threw, and used the momentum to slam her to the floor. Robo-Girl seemed unfazed.

"Where's Warren?" she asked loudly. "I don't like the people at this party."

"Why did you hurt that man?" Buffy asked warily.

Robo-Girl shrugged. "He touched me. I don't let anyone touch me except my boyfriend."

"Warren."

Her smile grew even wider. _Uncanny valley, much? _"Yeah," she said with a dreamy sigh. "Do you know where he is?"

Buffy wasn't sure how to answer, but in her moment of hesitation, ambulance sirens began to sound. Someone must have called 911. Robo-Girl turned tail and ran out, at a speed even Buffy wasn't sure she could match.

"You'll get 'er, love," said a voice, and she felt the familiar tingles on her neck and in her stomach. Buffy was aware that Spike was standing right behind her, and her already-accelerated heartbeat sped to Riley-post-Initiative proportions. "And while you're at it, pay her back for me, will you? Think she dislocated my shoulder." Spike grimaced.

"Thanks," she said honestly. "It's nice to have someone else less fragile to throw at the bad guys."

Up went the scarred eyebrow again. "That what I am to you, sweetheart? Just a tough little chew toy to keep the nasties occupied?"

Buffy shrugged. "Well, you asked," she replied, knowing he would understand what she meant.

He did, and a slow smile spilled over his lips. "Better than your last answer. Don't expect I could get an encore of that k-"

"No," she said firmly, but she could tell her eyes weren't serious as she said it. The Scoobies had gathered around during the exchange, although from the lack of stones thrown at her they hadn't caught on to the innuendo.

Buffy looked around at her friends. Tara was still looking out the window as the paramedics took the man away. Willow wrapped an arm around her lover's waist, smiling encouragingly. Xander and Anya looked like they'd just broken apart from dancing, and their hands were still linked. She couldn't look at Spike.

Buffy offered the group a smile. "I think we're gonna be Bronzing it tonight, guys. If that's okay, I mean. It's still early, and who knows, we might even catch little miss Terminator."

They nodded and provided their assent. Only when they began to file away through the crowd did she turn to Spike, still waiting at her side like a faithful puppy. She stifled a giggle at the image.

"Am I welcome at this little gathering?" he asked, obviously trying to keep any emotion from his voice.

Buffy looked at him, really looked at him. He _had_ been helpful lately, and she could definitely control her hormones for a couple of hours…right?

"Will you play nice?" she replied teasingly.

His tight lips broken into a grin. "Well, I won't make any promises…"

This was going to be mega-interesting.


	3. Chapter 3

A Spark of Love

_Chapter Three_

* * *

><p><em>Previously: <em>Buffy fervently denies any feelings for Spike, while he tries to convince her they'd be good together. When she runs into him at a party, however, she invites him to come to the Bronze with the gang.

* * *

><p>It was like he'd stepped into some wild alternate reality. The Slayer inviting him to hang out with her little gang? A year ago he would have laughed himself silly over the idea and now he was trailing behind her like the whipped mutt he was.<p>

She was hardly welcoming him with open arms, but he reckoned it wouldn't be too long before she fell victim to his charms again. Or so the Spike part of himself told him, anyway. William was a little more pessimistic.

God, just thinking about the Slayer made him have multiple personalities. This was sad.

She was out on the floor, living it up with her mates – or most of them. Tara alone hung back, looking all pensive. He wondered if that look was what had drawn Red to her. The witch had taste, he had to admit it. Tara seemed like a decent sort, and she was definitely good-looking. Not to mention she was open-minded, which made her a breath of fresh air in Spike's opinion. The bloody Scoobies didn't deserve her.

As he was thinking this, he suddenly realized that he'd been staring at her the whole damn time. _There goes her open-mindedness, I'm sure_.

Instead, she offered him a shy smile. "I…I don't really like dancing. Except slow dances, sometimes."

Tara was trying to start a polite conversation with him. Spike felt himself grin back, almost without realizing it. Red _had_ done something right. "Dancing's a bit of all right, as long as you've got the right partner. Why don't you steal your girl away? They can do without her for a few."

There was some kind of look in her eye, he noticed. Some glint that hinted of something beyond her sweet exterior. "Well, I can't. If I did that, Buffy wouldn't have anyone to dance with."

_Huh_. Was that her game? She was on his side?

Well, God have mercy on her bleeding soul. "I don't think Slayer'd dance with me," he said carefully. "I've offered before."

Tara looked out at the dance floor again. Spike followed her line of sight to where the other four were whirling around to the tune of some mindless pop tune. Buffy was right in the middle, gleaming like molten sunshine. Her every movement went beyond dancing: she was sex, death, poetry. Everything he loved in this world.

"Maybe you haven't been asking right."

Following her. Fighting with her. Working with her. Trying to kill her, way back when…okay, that had been flawed.

But kissing her, that had been entirely right. And as she smiled (even if it wasn't at him) – he had a feeling she knew it too.

"Yeah," he said, suddenly breathless. "I reckon that's true."

So he moved to her, step by step, weaving through the crowd. Couldn't help but be reminded of the first time he'd seen her, moving in this same little club with her same little friends to the same kind of music. But he wasn't the same anymore. Back then, all he'd wanted to do was rip her throat out, dance with her in the deliciously violent way he still craved – but he'd never wish her dead now. He'd die again before he'd let that happen.

She wasn't the same, either. Older, stronger, wiser. More cynical, but also more beautiful. Time and trials had hardened her, but not past the point of no return.

Hell, he didn't even know if there was a place like that. You'd think he would have reached it by now, but even after a hundred years of murdering the innocent, he turned into the same puddle-of-goo wanker he'd always been at just the sight of her.

God, he was close now. He pushed his way through the crowd more quickly, ready to reach her, ready to ask her because in that moment, he felt like he could.

He was almost there…

The air that had caressed her warm body was empty, and the warmth growing in the pit of his stomach faded. She was gone.

* * *

><p>Buffy shoved her way through the bathroom door and heaved a sigh. She'd felt the familiar tingles and knew that Spike was watching her. That had been okay. Then he'd come closer and, well, she'd bolted like a bolting thing. She just wasn't ready to deal with any of this weirdness. It was way too awkweird trying to straddle – no, that was <em>not<em> a good word to be thinking right now – to stand on either side of this line between enemy and friend and partner and ? - it was just a catastrophe of badness.

Plus, she really had to pee.

She did so, and as she was washing her hands, Willow came in, looking a little sweaty but none the worse for wear. Whatever that meant. The redhead pushed back a stray hair and smiled, but before Buffy could leave, her friend grabbed her arm.

"Buffy," Willow said, in that tone that immediately pressed Buffy's panic button. Was everyone okay? Were there vamps in the building? Had something happened to Dawn? "I, uh, need to ask you something."

"What's wrong?"

She looked aside. "Nothing's _wrong_, exactly, just…what's with this whole Spike thing? Because I gotta be honest, I'm not buying that talking it out solved all your problems. I mean, normally your vampire stalkers are a little bit harder to shake."

Buffy shrugged and leaned back against the sink, bracing herself with her palms. The cold surface reminded her uncomfortably of the feel of Spike's skin when she had…

"Everything's fine," she insisted quickly. "I'm handling him. I mean, it. No, that's not - I mean, not – not _physically_ handling. Just ora – _verbally_. Verbal handlage."

"Uh-huhhh."

Willow wasn't buying it. Buffy tried harder. "Look, it's major league weird but that's what we deal in. I think everything will be fine."

The other woman bit her lip. "Buff, it's not like I don't have faith in you but – we were talking about how crazy these things can get and I'm worried. If you keep working with Spike like this…he's going to think he has a chance, with you. Which is crazy. Right?"

Buffy felt like her skin was suddenly transparent and all of her feelings could just bubble up to the surface, right out there for Willow to see. She swallowed at least three times and became really good friends with the floor.

It _was_ crazy. Because even if, by some weird freak accident happenstance that could never, _ever_ be a thing…she couldn't be with him. Not because of her, not even necessarily because of him, but because of the whole life thing. The Scoobies would never be okay with it, her mom would never be okay with it, Giles would _kill _her…and they'd all be right.

Just because Spike wasn't all souly didn't mean he couldn't flip out and start killing people all willy-nilly. Giles had said more than once that if the vampire had really wanted them dead, he could have made arrangements with other demons. What if he started taking out her friends? Or what if the chip stopped working?

Or, worst of all, what if none of this happened and she would have to cope with the reality of these feelings for Spike and they'd end up kissing again and maybe, you know, other stuff, and then there would be immense badness and her mom would cry and Xander would probably move to Poland or something and she'd be kicked out of her house and she'd have to live with Spike in his crypt and…

Okay, far-fetched. But still. Every path she thought of led to badness, one way or another.

"Buffy? You still here?"

She swallowed one more time, for good measure. "Yeah. I'm here. You're right. I shouldn't let him think that it's even the remotest of remote possibilities. Complete life-shutting-out is the way to go."

Complete life-shutting-out was definitely easier in theory, she thought as she opened the door only to be confronted by Spike.

Had his eyes always been that blue?

He offered her a disarming smile, which only made her hate him a little more. Things had been so much easier when they were just mortal enemies, even if they had been really bad about letting each other live. At least then they had pretenses to hide behind.

"Thought you'd been spirited away, love," he said, in that not-at-all-sexy accent that didn't even slightly make her melt. At all.

She was strong!Buffy. "Yeah, I had to go take care of human needs. Uh, so, I don't think the robot is here and you know, I'm…_really_ tired so I'm just gonna hit the hay. With my head. I'm gonna go to bed."

Then, suddenly worried that he would pick up on the unintentional innuendo, she added pointedly, "Alone."

He smirked, but he seemed more hurt than seductive. Great. Just what she needed, an overly sensitive vampire stalker. That she didn't like. Like, at all.

God, she sucked at denial.

"So I'm gonna go."

But she was really, really good at running away from her problems. She grabbed her stuff, said a quick goodbye to her friends, and left Spike standing there at a loss.

For about a minute.

* * *

><p>"Slayer, wait!"<p>

He sprinted after her, matching her pace with a little effort. She turned to glare at him and – it was wrong to think this now, when she was obviously upset, but she was hot as hell when she was angry. That little pouting lip and the way her eyes got all big and ferocious…her breathing sped up and he could almost feel her blood pumping and rushing and driving that pretty little tongue as it carved out cruel words for him…

Cruel words that she was speaking right now.

"Spike, are you even listening to me?"

Now her hands were on her hips, those lovely hips. He liked them better when she was dancing, though. Or fighting, although with her the two were one and the same. Another thing they had in common – a proper appreciation for the arts of the body.

"'Course I was," he answered promptly. "Leave you alone, you're tired, no more patrolling for nasties tonight and also probably some unimaginative insult."

"My insults are _not_ unimaginative, you…stupid radioactive-haired vampire!" she said, nearly hissing out the words.

Spike _tried_ not to smile at her, he really did. She was just so…cute.

(And he was so far gone that even Angel could have taken the mickey out of him for being a sap).

"Right, well, anyway, I just wanted to walk you home. Not right to end a date so abruptly," he said, making his voice intentionally low and silky.

Yeah, he was pushing her buttons. Wasn't his fault that was how she liked him. He could see the way her pupils dilated and her breath caught when he called it a "date", and he silently resolved to do it again at least once before the end of the night.

"This was _not_ a date, Spike."

"What was it missing, hm? Went to a party, had a nice spot of violence, then went to the club with your mates. I offered to buy you a drink, not my fault you turned me down. And, of course, the goodnight kiss…but that's yet to come, right, pet?"

Buffy was walking faster, not looking at him anymore. "What was missing was a guy. A human guy that I could actually be with. I don't care what you think I'm feeling, none of it matters. This is just some sick daydream and you need to…get over it."

"_I _need to get over it?" he repeated incredulously. "You're the one deluding yourself into thinking that there's nothing between us!"

That was it, apparently. She rounded on him, full Slayer fury directed at one relatively defenseless vamp.

"There is nothing between us!"

Damned lies. He could feel her light up from his touch, and he almost wished they could fight again just so he could experience her intake of breath every time their bodies brushed.

"I can't be with you!"

The hell was she even talking about? Was as simple as just being. Should come naturally. Seemed to him that they were the only thing that made sense, as messed up as it was. It still almost disgusted him, the depths of feelings for her.

But he'd gotten over it.

"I can't love you!"

That was…

He didn't deserve her. Spike knew that, at least. He wasn't a complete idiot. She was perfection embodied, she was the bloody Slayer and he…well, he was just an ex-killer who watched too much telly.

She didn't love him. He was pretty sure that he knew that, too. But all of this was resting on the idea, the notion that she could, someday. Because he felt a connection, and assumed it would be as natural for her as it was for him.

Maybe it wasn't.

He suddenly remembered the alley, memories he'd tried to push away months ago. _"You're beneath me."_

That whole scene had been eclipsed later by her allowing him to comfort her and to hold her in his arms. Didn't mean it didn't happen. Maybe he was too far beneath her to ever mean enough to her. Maybe everything she'd been saying was true, and he was just being a wanker about the whole thing.

Unless…

"Can't, love, or won't?" he asked gently.

They were close to her house now, and it wasn't long until morning. The very first whispers of sunrise would steal their way any minute now. If she was going to tell him a hard truth for her to admit, it would be now, before the light made things real.

Buffy didn't look at him. "Can't," she said quietly. Her voice trembled slightly, and her hands were balled into fists.

There was something else in her tone that made his heart swell like the sudden leap of a violin. Bloody hell, he really was becoming that ponce William again. Buffy brought out the best and the worst in him, and he wasn't sure which category this rush of poetic description fell into. As long as he kept it to himself, he supposed it wasn't too bad. God forbid the Slayer got a hold of one of his notebooks. He'd probably stake himself right then and there.

Despite this new sentimentality, however, Spike had the stones to do what William never would have dared. It was a rough choice, potentially losing the Slayer either way, but he went with his intuition, as he often did.

Spike asked another question.

"Can't, love, or don't?"

For a second he thought the sun had come up and he was on fire, the way her eyes caught onto his. He felt fevered, a sensation he barely remembered. A shock pulsed through his body, like the echoes of a long-lost heartbeat.

"Can't," she said again, voice hushed, eyes not breaking away from his. "I…I just can't."

Buffy began to disappear into her doorway. He reached forward to catch her arm.

* * *

><p><em>Oh, no, <em>she thought desperately. This couldn't be happening.

It was like everything was in slow-mo as his hand touched the invisible barrier. This hadn't been how she wanted Spike to find out. In fact, she hadn't wanted him to ever find out. She had been planning on covertly re-inviting him so it was never an issue, because she hadn't wanted to see the look on his face that was there right now.

His eyes were so blue as they met hers, wounded and vulnerable. He looked almost like a human, almost like a little boy, almost like a man.

It was too much for her.

She wrenched her arm out of his grip. "I'm sorry."

Buffy didn't want to hear the words she could see forming on his lips. She didn't want to see him at all. It was like Willow had infiltrated her brain and all she could think of was that look on her face.

Willow's concern. Spike's hurt. Dawn's apprehension. The images flicked through her brain. She was so tired of hurting her loved ones with her choices. This wouldn't happen again. Even if she was hurting Spike, it would be better for him in the end.

_No chance with me_. _No chance with me_.

She didn't get happily-ever-afters, especially not with soulless creatures. She was the Slayer, little more than a sacred duty. She had people to protect.

So she shut the door. It felt like she'd slammed it on her heart, but she refused to look back.

Buffy crept up to her bed, careful not to wake her mom or Dawn. It was almost sunrise, but she felt like the life had been sucked right out of her.

Being tough with Spike hadn't been so hard before. It was like, somehow, he'd wormed his way into her heart and into her life, like by kissing him she gave him some magical in to her thoughts and dreams.

She wasn't a fan. Even without the badness of him being in lo – _thinking_ he was in love with her, developing any kind of attachment to a soulless vampire screamed "not a good plan".

He had to be nothing to her. She had to make him nothing to her. It was the only way.

But for now, she could just lose herself to sleep.

* * *

><p>The graveyard was empty, and unnaturally still. Buffy took a deep breath and tensed her muscles as the wind brushed against her.<p>

She felt so _alive_.

A vampire was rising in her grave. Twenty feet away. Buffy sensed it, somehow, and she didn't question how. She knew it like she knew that the vampire had been only a few years older than she was, like she knew she had exactly thirty-two seconds until the fledge would recognize her presence.

She didn't move. She barely even breathed. Her fingers gripped her stake gently, more like holding a lover's hand than grabbing a weapon. There was no fear, only pure adrenaline.

The fledge was behind her now, stumbling a little. Going for the kill. Buffy closed her eyes as the vampire slid her fingers around the Slayer's neck.

Then, quicker than she'd ever moved before, she took hold of the vampire's neck from behind and flipped her, hearing a satisfying snap. The body disintegrated almost instantly.

_No stake, no shoes, no problem_, she thought, satisfied.

The wind had slowed.

"Hello, Spike."

Her eyes were still shut, but she could sense him moving closer after her greeting. The clouds sped across the sky, casting shadows across her eyelids as the moonlight danced on her skin.

"Can't be as much fun dancing alone," he said, voice very very close to her ear, although he still seemed to her to be quite far away. Her skin cried for his touch. "Need a partner?"

"I don't need anybody," Buffy said, but the words seemed to come from outside her body. They were true, however. "I am power."

He was in front of her now. "Maybe it doesn't always have to be about need."

"Where's my stake?" she demanded, opening her eyes. Spike was gone.

It couldn't be. She reached forward to touch the ground where he had been, sifting the dirt through her fingers.

"What's wrong?" Dawn asked suddenly, taking one of her hands. Buffy looked at her, almost unseeing.

She frowned. "I need to protect you," she explained, cupping the dirt in her hands once more and spreading it over Dawn's forehead like an anointing. "I did what I have to."

Her sister looked at her blankly. "You forgot my gift," she complained, suddenly seeming very small and young. Buffy could remember her being this age, always tearing up over something or the other.

None of it was real. All of it was real.

"I threw it away."

* * *

><p>Buffy woke up in a sweat and dashed into Dawn's room.<p>

Empty. Before she panicked, though, she noticed that the clock said it was already 10:30 in the morning.

She shivered as she poured herself a bowl of cereal. Her dream had been so vivid, almost like a Slayer dream. It couldn't be, though. It didn't make any sense.

Of course, her dream years ago about Drusilla killing Angel hadn't made that much sense, either, until later. What if…

She was still too tired to be thinking about this. Buffy resolved to talk to Giles about it that night.

* * *

><p>At this rate, he was going to need to nick another pack of cigarettes before night fell. Spike sighed as he lit another, alternately pacing the floor and punching the walls.<p>

What had he missed? Had aliens abducted and brainwashed the Slayer while she was in the ladies' room? Nothing else could explain her change of heart, not when she'd been making those doe-eyes at him and looking all come-hither not half an hour before.

Unless it wasn't a change of heart. She couldn't have disinvited him then, she had to already have. But when? And why?

Sure, he'd been pretty bad in the past, but he hadn't tried to kill her in ages. Matter of fact, even when he _was_ trying to kill her, she still left the open-door policy on her house.

She couldn't be scared of him, then. She never had been, even when she knew he'd taken out two Slayers in his time and was looking to nail a third. Buffy had always been all stuck-up, bitchy, and full of herself.

So if she wasn't scared of him, then the answer was simple. Only one other person she could be afraid of: herself.

Spike knew the Slayer was an emotionally backwards bint, but even from her this was bloody ridiculous. Suddenly angry, he threw the fag on the ground and stomped it out.

He almost envied his past self. Sure, he'd been in love with a cheating lunatic, but at least he'd been happy, for the most part. At least it had been easy enough to deal with Dru's brand of crazy, but the Slayer's, that was a whole different kettle of fish. Her method of emotional coping seemed to be to push away everyone who gave a damn about her.

What was she afraid of? That she'd give in to temptation and ravish him the first chance she got? That he'd finally brass her off so much that she'd stake him? That she'd have to face up to her little friends when the truth came out? It would, naturally. The truth had a way of outing itself.

Maybe he should just give the truth a little helping hand. See how the Slayer felt when her gang found out she'd been halfway into the Big Bad's lap. Maybe it'd hurt her, but it'd be the good kind of hurt, yeah? Like ripping off a Band-Aid. That kind of denial couldn't be healthy.

He couldn't just up and tell them, though. They wouldn't believe him, and what's worse, Buffy would never give him a second glance after that. No, he had to be craftier. Get her to tell them, somehow.

But how? That was a quandary. What could be more important to the Slayer than her bloody pride? Not him, that's for sure. Dawn. He could persuade her that the Slayer had seriously hurt him in some way, or that he had some kind of info to tell her. But could he really play the Bit in that way?

Well, probably, but it was moot anyway. She'd see right through him.

Spike _could_ just wait until she came to him again, like before. Might get him somewhere, but at what cost? He wasn't the waiting around sort. Better to just go. Maybe talk to the Nibblet, maybe bring Joyce flowers. Anything to get re-invited.

Motivated by an almost righteous frenzy, he leaped up, sliding his duster over him as easily as if it were part of him. He also snatched a ratty blanket before heading down into the sewers. No need to literally burn up for his love.

Joyce answered the door, frowning and looking concerned. Wasn't a good look on her, he noted. In fact, maybe it wasn't just the worry doing it. She seemed pale, and not for the first time he remembered Buffy being upset enough about her mum's condition to cry on his shoulder.

"'lo, Joyce," he managed, remembering his manners a little too late. "Hope you're well. May I come in?"

"I don't think that's a good idea, Spike," she said evenly, but despite her evident calm, Spike could tell that her knuckles were turning white as she gripped the door frame.

"Look, I don't know what the Slay – bloody hell," he said suddenly, as her face whitened further. "Joyce, let me in. You need to take a nice lie down."

"I'm fine," Joyce repeated firmly.

But God, she didn't look it. A sudden wave of nausea hit Spike as his predator's instincts alerted him to something that he had already feared. She was almost gone.

_Take her now_, his demon screamed.

_Save her now_, cried the man.

"And you need to –"

But he didn't get to find out what it was he needed to do.

* * *

><p>She flipped the robot over, holding her down. "Pushing people through windows – is <em>not<em> – responsible behavior," Buffy explained patiently. "And also? The whole 'no one can touch me except my boyfriend' is kind of weird and slavish and disgustingly medieval. Not that it's your fault. I think your boyfriend is the one who needs to be reprogrammed."

April squirmed weakly, obviously running out of battery. "Warren does not need to be reprogrammed! He is perfect just the way he is – brilliant _and _sexyyyy."

Buffy rolled her eyes. "Ugh, have you even seen him? Talk about gross."

"Slayer!"

A few familiar sensations flooded her body again. Ignoring the fire pit in her stomach, Buffy rose and turned to face Spike. "Speak of the devil – or, in this case, an annoying bleached wannabe. What part of get lost was lost on you? Also, I think you're about to catch fire."

She was pleased with her attempt at normalcy until she caught sight of Spike's face beneath the sizzling blanket. He was deathly pale, which shouldn't have been strange for a dead guy, but it was jarring on his usually expressive face. The only sign of emotion was the widening of his eyes. He looked almost…afraid.

"It's your mum."

He was lying.

He had to be.

This was Spike. Truthfulness was, like, his bane. This was some dumb, cruel joke, or some kind of attempt to get into her pants.

Even as she thought it, she knew it wasn't true. She had never seen Spike look so utterly terrified and miserable, even during his post-chip depression.

"Where are you going?" April asked.

Buffy gritted her teeth, afraid she would begin crying if she answered. She gave Spike a quick glance of confirmation before she took off running.

It was like the ground propelled her, making her go farther and faster. She had never run so quickly in her life.

_Nononononono_ was the only thought she was registering as they neared Revello Drive. An ambulance was parked outside. The door was ajar.

She burst through the door, ignoring Spike's warnings. The people from the ambulance were gathered around Joyce like vultures around carrion.

Buffy felt the sudden urge to vomit.

"Is she – will she – can you –" she stammered, unable to look into the man's eyes. He was standing between her and Mom. Why was he standing there? Why couldn't she reach her mother?

The ambulance man said something. She couldn't understand.

Why was everybody acting like this was real? This couldn't be how things went. Reality had monsters, things she could fight.

_Mom had to be able to fight._

"No," she tried to explain. "She can't be –"

A cool hand brushed her shoulder.

_No_.

"Love," he said, unspeakably gentle.

_He can't be here_.

"She's gone."

At first she thought Spike had said it, or maybe even ambulance man. But the words had escaped her own lips. She stared blankly, still in shock.

_If he's here, then the person who was here to do the uninviting has to be…_

"She's gone."


	4. Chapter 4

A Spark of Love

_Chapter Four_

* * *

><p><em>Previously: <em>Willow confronts Buffy and tells her that she needs to shut Spike out of her life. Spike won't accept this, and follows Buffy home where he finds out that he's been uninvited. While Buffy is away taking care of April, Spike goes to visit Joyce. He's unable to do anything except watch her die, and the spell is broken as soon as Joyce dies. By the time Buffy arrives, it's too late. Joyce is gone.

* * *

><p>He'd faced demons from the depths of Hell, Angelus at his prime, and even an apocalypse or two. Not only that, but he'd confessed his love to the bleeding Slayer when he was chipped and helpless. But none of that was as scary as seeing Buffy all ragged and weak.<p>

Spike would have liked to think that he'd been able to stick around and lend a helping hand where it was needed because Buffy really wanted him there, but honestly, he knew she just didn't have the energy to push him away. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't taking some advantage of that fact, even if it made him feel a little guilty to know that he'd be out on his bum if not for Joyce's untimely passing.

For God's sake (if he could still say that, as an unholy demon – after all, he had done more earnest praying in the last couple of weeks than ever in his adult human life), she'd uninvited him. Done all she could to try and remove him from her life, but he was sure somewhere in his unbeating heart that it was like an amputation. She thought it was for her own good, at least, but it had to hurt like hell and made her lose something she needed. At least, he hoped that was how it had felt.

He had a feeling Buffy wasn't feeling much of anything lately. Even when her mates walked in on the pair of them sitting a little too close for comfort – it was completely innocuous and, by the way, initiated entirely by Buffy – she had barely reacted, despite the hell the Scoobies tried to raise.

Then there was the Niblet to be worried about. Normally, she blathered on about the most inconsequential of things, but she'd been quiet lately. Quiet like the grave. Big Sis was too lost in her own struggles to notice, though, and Spike was afraid to butt in. _Not afraid_, he corrected. _Rightfully wary_.

Dawn had let him do her nails before the funeral, though, so that was something.

Things had started to settle into a kind of routine. He'd arrive at sunset, usually with takeout. Buffy wouldn't ask how he paid for it, and she usually wouldn't thank him, but at least she would eat as long as he was around to make sure Dawn wouldn't take everything. They would eat in relative silence. Dawn would lie and say all of her homework was finished. Buffy would reprimand her for lying. Dawn would go up to her room and sulk, finish her homework, and then come down in time to watch some crappy TV movie.

Buffy usually tried to be energetic and do something her Mum would have done, like the dishes or some such. Of course, there wasn't usually much to do, seeing as she didn't seem to be eating much except the takeout he brought. She wouldn't let him help. The spark of fire left in her seemed to have been dedicated to that one task, and she put all of her fury into it.

Then she would collapse on the couch, exhausted just from being alive, and he would awkwardly sit by her, probably closer than well Buffy would have allowed and not as close as this barely-there Buffy might have been okay with. She didn't say anything about the un-inviting, or the kiss, or really anything at all except for an occasional comment about the implausibility of some martial arts move on the dumb-movie-of-the-night.

After a couple of hours, Dawn and Buffy would fall asleep, and Spike would leave.

If Spike would have had a soul, he probably would have felt awful about how good he felt about the situation. He wasn't happy about their misery, obviously – he'd give everything he owned (which, admittedly, wasn't much) to see the two Summers women happy again. But going there every day, feeling useful…it was almost like having a family again. He didn't dare compare the feeling with his human life, but it was almost like in the very early days with Dru and Angelus and Darla. Only with less gruesome violence and more mediocre Chinese food.

Speaking of violence, no word on patrolling from Buffy. He'd taken a few quick lookabouts on his way in and out of the Summers' residence, but he was in no mood to jeopardize his good nights by bringing up a full schedule. Despite the ever-looming Glory threat, Sunnydale seemed to be pretty tip-top at the mo', and there was no need to bother the barely-breathing Slayer with worries about a few wayward vamps sucking dry the citizens still dumb enough to venture around the graveyards at night.

Yeah, this new routine was a bit of all right.

He was in for quite a surprise one night, however, when he dropped by with arms full of things he could pronounce a hell of a lot better than the bloody Americans running the restaurant, only to find the Slayer looking almost…peppy.

"Well, somebody had her Wheaties this morning," he said, bemused. Buffy yanked the bulging bags from his arms and spun around, trotting rapidly to the kitchen and talking as she walked.

"We can have these tomorrow. I'm cooking."

"You're – what?"

Sure enough, some very….interesting aromas were meeting his enhanced vampire senses.

Not all of it smelled bad, though. He could pick out some kind of meat that seemed positively delicious. "Cooking," he repeated. "Why?"

Buffy busied herself with finding places for the various containers in the fridge. It wasn't hard to do – he was pretty sure she hadn't been grocery shopping since Joyce – well, in a couple of weeks. "Because I'm tired of just sitting around on my ass while Willow bakes cookies and Xander drives Dawn to school and you bring home takeout…"

That was sound logic, enough, at least by Slayer standards. But – had his ears deceived him? "What's that, love?" he asked, emboldened a little by Buffy's newfound perkiness. "What do I do, exactly?"

She looked at him blankly. "You bring back takeout. Thanks, by the way. I…don't think I said it before."

Spike was reasonably certain that she had just referred to Revello Drive as home – contextually, _his _home – and he was dying to push the issue except, well, already dead. He opened his mouth to ask a little more, but Buffy shoved some plates into his arms.

"Less talking, more setting," she instructed. "We're having everybody."

He glanced over the number, mentally assigning Scoobies to plates. The Watcher, the boy, Anya, Red, Tara, Dawn, Buffy…

"And one to grow on," he murmured, a little surprised in spite of himself. Unless he was mistaken, Spike himself had scored a table setting.

* * *

><p><em>This is it<em>.

Buffy had battled countless evils, sent her own boyfriend to Hell, and ended so many apocalypses that she'd lost count. She had even died and come back to life. She had fought _Cordelia Chase_ over the Homecoming Queen title.

None of that compared to the horror of trying to be a grown-up and host a (semi-)grown-up dinner party.

To start off with, she'd made the mistake of letting Dawn roast the potatoes, so they ended up burnt and over-seasoned. She couldn't remember where Mom had kept the good silverware, so Buffy had to piece together some mismatched forks and knives from the day-to-day drawer. Spike had insisted that he was not going to "sit through a whole bloody dinner with the Scoobies without the help of a little alcohol", and he came back with at least five different bottles, almost certainly illegally obtained.

And that was all before the rest of the gang even showed up.

"Xander! Anya!" she greeted enthusiastically after the first knock at the door. Buffy gave them her very best My-Life-Is-Together smile.

Anya returned it with a lightbulb smile of her own. Xander, instead, wrapped his arms around Buffy almost instinctively.

"How are you holding up?" he asked, his voice a little rough with emotion. She snuggled into the warmth for a brief second before breaking away.

Nope, no emotions for her today. "Better," she said, mostly-honestly. "Really."

"Good!" Anya said immediately. "It must be hard, doing all the things that Joyce used to do. Humans really are amazingly resilient."

Unsure what to say to that, Buffy ushered the pair into the living room, but before she could call Dawn back in (or try to explain Spike's presence, which she was _so_ not ready to do, fyi), there was another knock at the door.

Once inside, Giles faced Spike wearily before turning to Buffy. "I don't suppose you have any scotch on hand?"

Before she could muster a reply (one that would sound suitably defensive of Spike _without_ in any way implying that in the rare moments that the haze of grief lifted he was the first thought to come to mind), Spike snorted. "Like I could stand being here lookin' at your mug without something to take the edge off. I've got you covered, Rupes."

Giles almost smiled.

Buffy was spared from witnessing any more of their weird almost-bonding by yet another knock. Willow's hug nearly knocked her over; Tara, meanwhile, just stood by with a comforting smile. "Uh, we brought c-cookies," she said, thrusting the plate forward.

"Thanks. I guess everyone's here now, so we can…" She gestured vaguely toward the dining room.

_Oh god, the dining room_. She was barely conscious of her body for a second, only experiencing the events of weeks before. And remembering, even at that moment, the Christmas before, where everyone had been so happy…

Tara touched her shoulder gently. At her questioning look, Buffy nodded. "I'm fine," she said softly.

A minute later, as she looked at everyone gathered around the dining room table, like a real family – she sort of was.

Of course, they weren't the most functional family. Willow tried to conjure up some barbecue sauce for the chicken (per Xander's request) – she succeeded in producing the sauce, but forgot to specify a container. Giles took to the scotch quickly, which seemed to make Xander a little uneasy. Anya, in a rare attack of understanding, decided to distract him by regaling them all with tales from her Demon Glory Days ™. After Buffy finally persuaded her to stop, Tara collapsed in a fit of hopeless giggles as Dawn created a new culinary delight involving the burnt potatoes, some peanut butter, and a few dill pickle spears. Spike made some rude comment to Giles, which resulted in the Watcher taking even more scotch and the vampire stomping out to the back porch for a smoke break.

Once the noise subsided a little bit, Buffy glanced around and cleared her throat a little bit. She felt the pressing need to say _something_, even if she wasn't sure exactly what until she opened her mouth. "I, uh…I just want to thank everyone for coming, tonight. And – and for everything, these past few days. Weeks. It's been…it's meant a lot to me what everyone has done."

The others smile encouragingly.

_Wait, they expect me to say more? That was all I had_.

Then she thought of something else to say, something she felt like she had needed to say for a while. She didn't consider herself a super-duper touchy-feely kind of girl, but that didn't mean she was totally emotionless. "I…I love all of you," she added. The words tasted a little funny, but in a good way. Like toothpaste.

Of course, her ex-enemy, current-friend, potential-smooching-buddy had chosen that exact moment to walk in, invading her field of vision. Nobody turned to look at Spike; he might as well have been invisible to everybody except Buffy.

He was all she could see.

Those dark eyebrows shot almost up to his hairline at her words. She could almost see the thought forming, and she began to cringe when he opened his mouth. Off her look, however, he closed it again, but it didn't really matter. She already knew what he was going to say, and she knew that while he would have played it off as joking, he would have meant it. (The amount of analysis she put into a single Spike-expression was beginning to be downright scary.)

She couldn't say that to him, couldn't grant him that crumb. But there was one thing she could say.

Keeping her eyes locked on his and ignoring the butterflies in her stomach, Buffy continued. "I care about all of you way, way more than I could try to say. You're my family."

He leaned a little further forward and tilted his head, as if to say, _even me?_

Buffy gave a quick nod, heart suddenly pounding. She berated herself for it, but her heart just took that as an invitation to throb even harder. She began to seriously worry about her other organs.

Spike smiled, slowly. The butterflies in her stomach seemed to turn into lava.

Not even a thousand hellgods could have wiped that smile off of her face.

* * *

><p>Spike silently argued with himself for the rest of the night about whether or not he should offer to stay. By the time that only the Watcher and he were left, he had almost decided not to push his luck any further.<p>

"Night, Giles," Buffy said suddenly. She embraced him, and Spike thanked whatever deity didn't hate him too much for the Watcher's slight intoxication. He barely spared Spike a second glance as he stepped outside the door.

Spike cleared his throat. "Well, I guess I'll be - "

"Drying," she interrupted, thrusting a towel into his hands. "We don't keep slacker-types around."

His eyebrow shot up of its own accord, trying to cover up the pleasure the Slayer's words gave him. "Going to be keepin' me, around, are we?" he said, in as a damn an even tone as he could.

Buffy rolled her eyes. "Don't get any ideas." She began striding to the kitchen, moving in that way that he loved best, her hips all swivelly and fluid. Dawn smirked at his expression and pretended to gag.

_Oh, that's it, Bit_. His lips curled as he slung the hand towel over his shoulder and flashed her two fingers on his left hand – just as Big Sis turned around to catch him.

"What kind of dirty British thing are you showing to my sister?" she demanded, putting one hand on those _delightful_ hips. Spike felt his tongue flick along his teeth, a completely unconscious gesture, but he lengthened the motion for Buffy's benefit.

And, as he'd hoped, her heart sped up. _Well, well_. He was getting somewhere – even if that somewhere was dust on the Slayer's floor.

He expected her to say something cruel or to tell him to leave. Instead, she latched onto the neckline of his shirt and pulled him into the kitchen with her, eyes flaring all the while. Her heart sounded like a bleedin' hummingbird, to boot.

"Gonna punish me, Slayer?" he asked, suddenly feeling daring. After all, she was the one still holding on to his hot little body for dear life, wasn't she? 'Course, it was because she was brassed off, but that was practically a permanent state for Buffy.

For _normal _Buffy, he realized suddenly. _Real_ Buffy. Not this woman who'd been nine-tenths vegetable for a long minute. Yeah, she was glaring and fuming, but she looked _alive_.

And damn him, Spike wanted to grab hold of her and never let go.

Before his brain could send the message to the rest of his fool body that actually hugging the Slayer was bloody suicidal, one hand had made its way to her upper arm. Buffy looked at it, bemused and beautiful.

The air had changed, and he was breathing entirely too much of it for someone who didn't strictly need to. His chest was almost heaving, as if trying to make up for the last hundred or so years of only using his lungs for smoke breaks and witty threats. His head spun like he was starving, even though he distinctly remembered having fed a few hours before coming to the get-together.

Very, very slowly, Buffy let her own arm snake underneath his, until they were standing in a kind of half-embrace. He took an even deeper breath, savoring her scent. Her warmth. Almost unconsciously, he pulled her closer, wrapping both arms loosely around her waist. She leaned into the touch, against all his belief. He felt the Slayer take a long, ragged breath against his chest.

It took him a moment to realize she was crying. Curse words in a dozen languages, not all of them human, flew through his mind. _Bleedin' hell_, he finally settled on. _What does she expect from me?_ He'd comforted her before, that night he'd come to kill her, but not like this. Not with an armful of sobbing Slayer and the knowledge that the wrong she was crying over he could never right.

And he wasn't near ready to tell her he could identify.

Spike patted her back awkwardly, smoothing her hair with his free hand. He let his fingers get lost in the slight waves, wondering how quickly his own heart would be beating if it still could. He imagined it would have shattered his ribs by now.

After a minute, Buffy quieted and pulled away wordlessly, moving to the sink. He followed in equal silence.

She didn't look at him for more than a split second until after all the dishes were washed, dried, and put away. Figuring he was no longer needed, Spike began to head to the living room to grab his duster when he felt a hand catch his arm.

They looked at each other for a long moment. He was hardly close enough to lean in and kiss her, but it wouldn't have taken more than an instant. But Buffy was in charge of this little show, at least for now. He watched her face carefully.

Her expression softened as she looked at him. "Good night, William."

His given name. Well, what did you know? Spike could tell by the Slayer's expression that even she hadn't expected for _that_ to come out. He tried to conceal his shock, and only replied softly, "Good night, Buffy."

* * *

><p>For the first time in a while, Buffy woke up with real feelings in the pit of her stomach, besides "check on Dawn", and "what if I never got up". It was strange, something beyond fear or apathy, but still generally sort of negative. After a minute of flipping through an imaginary emotional dictionary, she pinpointed the feeling as anxiety.<p>

She was _nervous_. Nervous about…Spike. It was like her brain wouldn't stop replaying the night before. It was worse than when she'd kissed him, because this time she had a terrible sense that if she had kissed him she wouldn't have been able to tear herself away.

And that was _bad_ and _wrong_ and…some other adjectives that she would be able to think of if it wasn't morning and she wasn't still in bed, rubbing at her eyes and waiting for her alarm to go off in two minutes.

_Bad and wrong_, she repeated to herself, after the alarm went off and she set herself to making up the bed. _Wrong and bad and not okay_.

_Wrong and bad and not okay and icky – okay, not icky – but wrong, definitely wrong_, she continued, as she pulled cereal out of the cabinets. And by cereal, she meant one half-empty box of Cheerios. Not even Honey Nut. Just Cheerios.

Okay, so she'd add "go shopping" on her to-do list, somewhere between "panic over attraction to another dead guy" and "figure out how to foil plans of hellgod archnemesis".

It was gonna be a fun day.

"D'you think Spike'll come by tonight?" Dawn said, through a mouthful of Cheerios. She swallowed and grimaced. "By the way, I think those expired, like, last year."

"Sorry," Buffy said absently. "I think we might still have some Pop-Tarts…Why wouldn't he come by?"

Her sister shrugged, like it was no big deal. Which clearly, it was no big deal. It wasn't like she needed Spike. It wasn't even like she wanted to see Spike. He was just a short (not hulking, which wow, that was a nice change), bleached (which, okay, was weird but kind of suited him), _annoying_ vampire who just happened to have really good taste in Chinese food and was also mad wonderful at kissing.

Not that she was thinking about kissing him. At all.

"I mean, he probably figures you're feeling more you, right? You invited everyone over and everything."

"That's not…I didn't…he knows that…"

Dawn gulped down her orange juice. "I gotta go. Oh, and Buffy? Maybe when you go talk to Spike you should use actual sentences."

"I'm not going to go talk to Spike!"

An hour later, she found herself pausing in front of the door to his crypt. He was essentially a friend now, part of the gang in some weird way. Should she knock? Her usual strategy was just to bust down the door, but that seemed freakish and inappropriate when she'd been crying in his arms (_literally_) the night before. But knocking seemed so awkward and formal.

Not to mention, there was a chance he'd burn up in the sunlight trying to answer the door.

Buffy compromised by letting herself in quietly, shutting the door behind her. "Spike?" she said quietly.

Nothing. She was reminded way too much of the last time she came here to find him, and how things had ended that night. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to get out every last toe-tingling memory like it was toothpaste out of a tube.

Trying to find something to get her thoughts away from that particular subject, she wandered over to a coffin and picked up the black nail polish that was lying haphazardly there. Effortlessly, she lifted herself to sit atop the coffin and began to toy with the lid of the polish.

_He loves me, he loves me n- oh, this is stupid. Duh. He loves me. So not the issue here._ She absently unscrewed the top and began applying the polish to the pinky nail of her left hand. _Where is he, anyway? I guess he's sleeping. He sure sleeps a lot for a dead guy. _Holding her hand out, she inspected the results. _Hah. Maybe I should tease him about needing his beauty sleep_.

Suddenly, she remembered how he'd looked at her the night before. The angular curve of his cheekbones meeting his chin. Blue eyes burning brightly like the hottest part of a fire. Full lips slightly open, like she was so delicious he had to breathe her in with all of his senses.

She swallowed and began applying the nail polish more hurriedly.

"Buffy?"

_Oh sh-_ The brush slipped and she ended up painting a black line down her index finger. She wiped the polish against her jeans and closed the bottle, looking up to meet Spike's eyes.

Or that was the plan, anyway, until she realized that her eyes had been confronted with a very wet, towel-clad vampire. Spike's hair fell in loose curls over his forehead, which only seemed to bring out the bones of his face in even sharper contrast. His chest – which she absolutely _refused_ to purple-prose, even in her own mind – was completely bare, and only a kinda ratty towel hung low around his hips. He was barefoot.

And the room was suddenly airless.

He frowned at her in confusion. "What are you doing here? Give a bloke some warning. Almost walked up here completely starkers."

Once she deciphered the meaning behind the British-ness, that thought didn't exactly make her mind less jumbly. "I, uh…I was just here. To do the – the talky thing. About us. Wait. Not _us-us_, just – Dawn said you might think that you weren't needed or whatever now, and well, you still are. Maybe not needed, I mean, we're fine, but you know. Wanted. By her! And me, I guess. In a completely not…bad…way."

Spike squinted. "Seem a bit flustered, Summers," he commented, moving a little closer to her. "But I appreciate the thought, if I correctly dug it out of all the babble."

Buffy crossed her arms defensively. "Well, excuse me," she said, with a little less of an edge in her voice than she'd intended. "You'd be all flustery too, mister, if I was the one walking around mostly naked."

His adam's apple bobbed. "A valid point," he said, looking away. His voice had taken on that husky quality that she liked more than she wanted to. "I'll get my kit on, yeah? There's stuff in the fridge, while you wait. Unless you want to watch the show."

She gave him a dirty look. "I'll take a double pass. Trying to cut back on my blood-drinking."

"There's beer, too. And sodas, for the Bit. Think there's still chips and salsa left as well. Help yourself."

Well, Buffy wasn't one to look a gift salsa in the mouth, especially when she hadn't been grocery shopping in half of forever. She was sprawled in the not-too-uncomfy armchair, crunching away happily, when Spike returned. To her surprise, he wasn't wearing all black, but had instead chosen a tight-fitting red shirt to go with his customary black jeans.

Trying not to look too appreciative, she immediately began talking. "So how come you eat so much human food, anyway? I mean, I guess it's a matter of taste or whatever, but you don't really need it. I don't really have a full sample of vamps, really, but I know Angel almost never ate. Is it an age thing, maybe? Or are you just weird?"

For a second, she wondered if she'd left the fridge open, because a strong chill had settled over the room as she spoke. Spike was clenching his jaw a bit as he stalked to the fridge to retrieve a bottle of beer.

"So should I just start expecting to always be compared to bloody Angel?" He looked like just saying the name physically pained him. "Yeah, we're both undead. I learned to unlive with that fact. The similarities end there."

Buffy thought about pointing out their mutual penchant for dramatic coats and pretending to be badder than they were, but thought that might not go over well. "I'm just saying," she said rather sullenly. "No need to blow a gasket. Whatever that means. You know, that sounds kind of dirty, now that I think about it, so I'm gonna…not think about it."

Alas, but the joke failed to dent the legendary Vampire Hissy Fit. In fact, Spike's glare only intensified as he settled into the chair next to her. "You're just saying what? That I'll never be the magnificent, perfect Sir Broods-A-Lot? Yeah, I know. Think Dru hammered that into me hard enough, thanks."

"That's not what I -"

"I know I don't have a bloody soul, all right? I know I'll never be worth anything to you. I know that I'm still a monster in your eyes, and mine too, as a matter of fact. No need to start comparing me to Angel just to prove that point."

"Spike, you're being ridiculous."

"Am I? Because I don't see the Great Angel coming out of the woodwork to defend himself. In fact, I haven't seen him in quite some time, since long before Soldier Boy packed up and left." He fixed his murderous gaze to the wall somewhere above her head. "Did he even bloody call you when Joyce…?"

"He didn't call," Buffy said calmly, but before Spike could interject another tirade, she added, "He came to see me."

He blinked at her, looking shocked. "When?"

"The night of the funeral. You were…at home with Dawn, I think. I stayed at the grave past nightfall. I think, in a way, I knew he'd be there."

She hadn't told anyone about Angel's visit, not even Dawn or Giles. Honestly, she hadn't spent much time thinking about it after that night. It was like being with him was some little slice of perfection, but it was so removed from what she knew as reality that it seemed like someone else's life.

Spike set his jaw. "Did he – did you – "

She sighed. _And welcome to the _other_ reason I didn't tell anyone_. "Nothing really happened. We might have kissed once or twice, but if we did, it's none of your business," she said in a warning tone.

He seemed to deflate a little bit, looking nervously down at his hands instead of into her eyes. "Right. Sorry I asked."

_Should I_ – she wondered briefly, but some connection between her brain and her tongue momentarily shorted, and she just barreled on. "He, um, he did smell you on me. Which is way on the 'super' side of the freaky scale, in case you wanted to know."

He looked up at her, eyes suddenly lighter. "I'm surprised he didn't try to turn me into dust, then. I imagine he'd jump to the…worst conclusion."

Buffy sighed. "I told him the truth – or some of it. That you were on the side of the good guys now. That we weren't…together, or anything like that, but that you had been comforting me and helping out with Dawn."

Then, in the softest voice she thought she'd ever heard him use, Spike asked, "Did you tell him that I – that I love you?"

"He didn't ask," she replied smoothly, and now she was the one unable to meet his eyes. "But…he did ask if I was in love with you."

Spike didn't ask what she said, and she felt that he never would, so she continued, "I told him no…but I also told him not to be surprised if I changed my answer sometime." She finally looked back up at him.

"Possibly even soonish."


	5. Chapter 5

A Spark of Love

_Chapter Five_

* * *

><p><em>Previously: <em>In the aftermath of Joyce's death, Spike is around a lot. After Buffy's dinner party, she cries on him, and later admits that she spoke to Angel about him. Angel was concerned about her connection to Spike, and she told her ex she didn't love him, but that her answer might change "soonish".

* * *

><p>"Soonish?" Spike repeated, heart suddenly swelling with a joy he never remembered feeling before. Funny how one not-really-a-word-at-all could set his bleedin' heart beating again.<p>

If he didn't think the Slayer would kick his arse all over the town, he would have kissed her then and there. It was only a crumb, really, but he would beg all day at his mistress's table for one so delicious as that. She didn't even look as if she regretted saying it. Just maybe a little sheepish.

But damn if she didn't look pleased with herself.

"Buffy," he choked out, trying to express as much emotion as possible in those two paltry syllables. He felt like trying to say any more might bring tears forward. The Big Bad from years past would be laughing at him right now, but he was the one who'd had a taste of the Slayer (if not in the way he'd used to want), so who was the real winner here?

"Soonish," she said in sudden confirmation. "I'm not saying…commitment-time. Or anything time, really. But…I thought you should know."

"So why didn't the wanker come and stake me?" Spike wondered aloud. "Can't imagine he was pleased to hear…well, I know he's always been protective, even after he bloody dumped you, pet, and you'd be hard pressed to find a vamp he hates more than he hates me."

"You know what? I think I need to get back to Dawn. She'll be getting back from school any time now."

Buffy was fidgeting with her hands – nervous about the Bit, apparently. Seemed like she was hiding something from him, but he figured he'd let her get away with whatever it was, in light of what she'd said. "Right, of course," he said agreeably. "What with that nasty bitch of a hellgod after her. Haven't seen any more of her, have you?"

She shook her head, frowning slightly. "No, everything's been quiet. A little too much. I think I'll patrol tonight."

A smile spread over his face. Good to see his girl in action again. "Glad you're feeling up to it again, love."

He couldn't quite pick out the emotion in her eyes. Looked almost…playful. She shifted slightly as she said, "Well, I wouldn't mind a little backup. You know, just in case. You don't happen to know any muscle who wouldn't mind lending a hand?"

Oh.

She was _flirting_.

Well, if this kept up, his head wasn't going to fit through the door. He let his tongue flick over his teeth before he answered, "Think I might know a guy, yeah. Might want to watch out, though, a pretty girl like you would probably break his heart."

Buffy looked thoughtful. "Well, if he's as good a guy as you seem to think he is, I don't think it'll be a problem. Besides, he's tough, right? Should be able to take care of himself."

"Around you? Never," Spike breathed.

The air was getting warmer, and he was not-quite-unconsciously moving closer to her. She looked so delicious, all golden hair and parted lips. Better than any of his dreams of her. Nothing in the world could measure up to real Buffy, especially when she was sitting and breathing and laughing and _flirting_, beautiful like a less lethal ball of sunshine.

He was smiling like an idiot, but it was impossible to care when she was smiling right back.

"I should really –"

"Go, yeah," he finished for her, leaping up awkwardly. _Oh, balls_. He tried to cover up the gesture by leaning against the wall and lighting a smoke like that'd been his plan all along.

She shot him a funny look, but didn't comment.

"Er, see you tonight?" God, but he sounded like some 14-year-old loser. Not a hundred-plus…well, you stopped celebrating the birthdays after a while, yeah?

Buffy nodded, smiling a bit. It was a damn good thing he didn't need to breathe. "Yeah. See you then."

With a coy smile, she added, "I'll pick you up at eight."

He watched, a little thunderstruck, as she sashayed her sexy little way out into the sunlight. Be almost worth the whole burning-up-and-dying thing just to keep looking at that pretty picture a little longer, he thought wistfully.

Spike almost couldn't believe his luck. Sure, the Slayer'd been acting like she'd been thinking of him a bit more than usual, but he hadn't expected for her to show up at his bleeding crypt, eyelashes all fluttery, and practically tell him she was halfway his. He closed his eyes, remembering her face when she'd said she might love him "sometime soonish".

Yeah, he could live with this. He nearly bounced over to the stereo – not that he'd ever admit to doing such a peppy cheerleader thing – and put on an old Ramones record, whistling and humming alternately. Pity it was sunlight. He wanted to kill something, but not in a good way. In a happy, glad-to-be-unliving today.

It was probably a little problematic that his first response to any major emotion was to go out and have a spot of violence, but that would be just another perk to being with the Slayer. She probably saw it the same way.

* * *

><p>"Buffy, you okay?"<p>

She looked up, startled. "Hm? Me? Yeah, why?"

_What amazing control of the English language_, her inner Giles Giles-ded. She bit her tongue in frustration and put on her ditsiest smile. She could just be tired, a-little-out-of-it Buffy. Definitely not dying-to-go-see-a-vampire Buffy, and especially not the Buffy dying to see a vampire so they could go kill stuff together.

Yeah, that was pretty much the perfect date. Not that it was going to be a date. Well, probably not, anyway. Maybe if he did that face and asked her if she wanted it to be again –

"-and you've checked the clock like ten times in the last minute. It's still 4:23," Willow finished dryly.

Buffy blinked, trying to dredge up the first part of Willow's sentence. She gave up – it was lost somewhere between hype for a fight and a detailed catalogue of Spike's facial expressions. "Sorry."

"It's fine, I just – I'm a little worried about you," the redhead said, dropping her voice as Anya went by. The shop was devoid of customers, but the ex-demon was still flitting about, dusting and rearranging. Giles was seated at the table, several large volumes in front of him. Privately, Buffy thought those would get a lot more out of the dusting than the already-clean merchandise.

"Don't worry," Buffy replied automatically, cringing a little at how super trite it sounded. "Be happy. Hah. No, I'm just out of it, I guess. Going to get back to patrolling tonight. I have to admit, I'm _so_ ready."

"Ready for what?" Anya interrupted, shifting the feather duster in her eagerness. Debris fluttered down from it; Willow sneezed and sent Anya a dirty look. "Have you found a new romantic and or sexual partner? I think that orgasms would do wonders for your stress levels."

Buffy flushed. "No, nothing like that," she said, trying to keep her voice steady. "Just…you know, being a Slayer, getting back to my…Slayery things."

Anya nodded understandingly. "Well, if you want me to set you up, just let me know. We have a lot of attractive young men here as customers, actually. I'm surprised Xander doesn't live in a constant state of jealousy."

Buffy was suddenly very grateful that said guy happened to be at work. The last thing she needed was Xander getting nosy about her possibly-existent love life. "Thanks, Anya, but I think I'm fine."

Giles had wandered over at some point during the conversation. "Patrolling will probably be beneficial, Buffy. I'm glad to hear you're returning to your, er, duties."

"Yeah, I can only imagine what the local demon level's gotten up to," she said cheerfully. "I'll probably be staying up all night."

"Well, yes, I'm sure that Sunnydale needs your help, but I was actually referring to your personal state." He cleaned his glasses absently. "Your…stress levels should certainly decrease, and it always does one good to get a bit of fresh air and feel useful."

Buffy nodded enthusiastically. "Definitely been feeling that unuseful vibe of the late." She tapped a finger on the counter, barely able to restrain her energy.

"I only worry about your, er…well, your safety," Giles continued. "I recognize that you're perfectly capable of slaying average vampires and demons, even in large numbers…when you're in peak form. But after recent events, and having been away for quite some time...perhaps you should have some backup."

"Already got it."

He paused, halfway through pushing his glasses back up to the bridge of his nose. "Who?"

As nonchalantly as she could, she said, "Spike."

She felt the heavy, fatherly sigh coming before it even emerged from his lips. Hoping to head him off at the pass, she raised her eyebrows. "I'm not about to endanger anybody who's running low on superpowers, not with Glory out there."

There. Airtight argument.

Giles still sighed. "That's very logical," he admitted grudgingly. "I simply find it difficult to believe that his recent fits of selflessness are genuine."

"Is it really selflessness if he's doing it because he…cares for me?" Buffy asked. Of course. She could tell Spike himself that she might be starting to love him, but she couldn't even get the word out when discussing his already-admitted feelings.

Willow snorted. "You mean, that he wants to get in your pants?"

"Willow – " Buffy tried.

She looked at her in disbelief. "Buffy, you can't be – he's for real?" she said, in a hushed whisper. "He really…?"

"He really," Buffy said dryly. "So don't worry, Giles. Spike isn't going to be nominated for sainthood or anything, but…he's done a lot of things he didn't need to. Especially after…Mom."

Buffy tried to borrow a version of Willow's Resolve Face to communicate her seriousness about this issue. She was surprised that she'd even gotten this far without making them suspect anything else was going on – or might be going on, sometime soonish – and she didn't really want them to keep up the Twenty Questions until she cracked. After a second of unprotested silence, Buffy changed the subject to Willow's classes and breathed a silent sigh of relief. Safe for now.

She knew eventually that things would burn up. Either she would realize this whole thing with Spike was utter insanity and she'd break his heart, or she would find herself completely fallen for him and have to tell the Scoobies somehow. But until then…

Until then, it was 4:31. Three hours, twenty-nine minutes to go.

Three hours, five minutes later, she was breaking down Spike's door a little early. So what, she was a little impatient. Mister Couldn't-Wait-Till-Saturday could hardly point his finger at her.

"Hey!" he protested as she switched the television off. "I was watching that!"

Buffy thought she could see a glimmer in his eyes even as he said it. It was all a show – he was itching for a fight as much as she was. _It's too bad we can't fight each other anymore_, she thought, a little wistfully. "Well, now you're about to be watching my fist if you don't follow me," she threatened, playing along. With a little thrill, she pinned him to the wall easily.

"You're early." He pouted a little, eyes gleaming.

"Remember when we first met and you said you'd kill me-"

"On Saturday, yeah, yeah. Got me there."

"I got you," she repeated with satisfaction.

The air changed. Suddenly, the pout looked a little less silly and a little more like something her lips needed to be on top of, as soon as Slayerly possible. His blue eyes were driving right into her, and his hands, hanging loose at his side, came up to tentatively touch her hips.

* * *

><p>Spike wanted to taste her again, and she was looking at him in a way that suggested she wanted him, too. Possibly the best three words he'd ever had a chance to think. She wanted him. Her eyes were a little wild as they searched his, hands still holding him against the wall. She held him roughly, just the way he liked it.<p>

Buffy began to lean in. Unnecessarily, he held his breath.

Halfway to him, she seemed to change her mind like she was coming out of a trance. "No," she said quietly, more to herself than to him.

_Damn_. "No?" he repeated, trying to make his voice silky like he knew she liked. He felt her heart speed up and tried to hide his smirk.

"No - not now," she clarified, extracting herself from his arms. "Now is for killing things."

_What a woman. _

"Now you're talking," he growled, feeling a feral smile take over his lips. "Planning to make all the rounds then?"

"Oh yeah. I was thinking the works – all the cemeteries, swing by UC Sunnydale, maybe even check around the morgues."

"You really know how to romance a bloke," he said seriously. She wrinkled her nose, but he caught the whisper of a smile on her lips before she turned around.

Striding out the door without a second glance, Buffy said, "If you fall behind, I'm not going to wait for you."

He scoffed. "Please, Slayer, you'll be eating my dust."

"As if!"

Honestly, though, neither of them could have lost the other if they tried. Their super speed was pretty well matched, so even though he scaled fences and she leaped onto roofs, he could always see her in the corner of his eye. A golden blur.

It was exhilarating, wind whipping his face and coat, rain shifting and loosening his hair until it fell in curls over his forehead. The air was harsh in his dead lungs, and as the downpour increased he became more conscious of the Slayer's presence, her laughter and comments guiding him. They stopped, now and again, to slay some wayward beastie, but for the most part they took the quiet corners of the night and made them wild.

The last slay of the night was a vampire, a fledge, from the looks of him. Poor blighter didn't know what hit him. Between Spike's punches and Buffy's kicks, a well-thrown stake here and a thrust there, he was dust on their fingertips as fast as lightning.

Lightning like flashed in the distance, he suddenly realized. The rain was becoming a storm.

Briefly, a part of him thought that was a fitting metaphor for his feelings for the Slayer. Started out torrential and rough, but easy, in a way. Natural, not frightening a bit. Then came the lightning and thunder, blinding him and deafening him to everything that wasn't her, wasn't her eyes and her mouth and the way she moved in for the kill and the way she moved in for a kiss and the way they danced together.

All of his thoughts fell away as she looked at him. _Cor, _her clothes clung to her lithe body like a second skin, and her eyes were dark and hungry. Unconsciously, he licked his lips, imagining the wild ride back to the crypt. Her eyes were still locked on his, and in the thrill of the bloodlust they were the same. A bloody dream she was, and the only thing that could make him take his eyes off of this sight was the notion of touching her.

She looked pained, suddenly. He frowned, as if to ask. Silently, her lips formed a word he half-anticipated before it was out. "Dawn."

The borrowed blood roared in his ears. Didn't ever want to tear himself away from her, but even in his haze, he knew the Slayer was right. "Dawn," he breathed.

Slowly, the hunger in her eyes began to fade, and she moved closer to him, hugging her arms to her body. She was cold, and he was about the least helpful one to be about to help. "We need to get back," Buffy said quietly. The rain continued to patter, but she could hardly get more soaked.

Spike brushed a sopping lock from her forehead. "Right."

Neither made a move to go.

Finally, she sighed and slipped her small hand into his. Hell of a sight for anyone who might be watching, he thought with some amusement. A legendary vampire Slayer and a vampire known for killing Slayer, holding hands out in the rain in some godforsaken cemetery on a Hellmouth. "Come on."

They walked in a comfortable silence, although he sensed she was nervous about the Niblet. "So, no sign of the big Hellbitch, yeah? Reckon no news is good news?" he asked.

Buffy shrugged. "At this point…I have no idea. I like villains I can figure out, you know? Predictable. All we really know about her is that she's a god, she wants the Key, and she's way stronger than I am. Not really comforting. Her M.O. seems to be to just disappear until the most inconvenient time possible, too."

"So we keep our guard up. She may be a god, or ex-god, or what have you, but she's human. In a manner of speaking. As human as you are, anyway, or as I am. Some part of her's got to have a weakness. All you have to do is find it and –" Spike snapped his fingers illustratively.

"And the job's a game," the Slayer finished, rolling those pretty little eyes. "Yeah, yeah. You make it sound so easy."

"Pet," he said seriously, stopping in front of her house. "You severely kicked the arse of the Master of Sunnydale when you were, what, seventeen?"

"Sixteen," she corrected quietly.

"Even better. You banished Angelus, another of the Aurelius line, to Hell in a handbasket. Don't remember much about that creepy Mayor bloke, but he was right old as well, and didn't you say something about him turning into a…"

"Giant snake, yeah."

"Not to mention Franken-what's-his-face, a renegade Slayer, and – several times – yours truly, well known for being the Slayer of Slayers."

"As well as for your delicate modesty," she commented, but he saw the smile in her eyes. "Yeah, okay. I have a pretty impressive resume, but nothing god-level. And I don't exactly have an army of high-schoolers on my side like I did when we fought the Mayor."

_An army of…_"But you do have a pair of witches, the Watcher, an ex-demon, the boy – who must have some kind of mojo to have survived this long around you lot – and, well me, of course," Spike added, grinning.

* * *

><p>"Of course," Buffy repeated, thinking about it. It was weird to hear him say it like that, so second-nature. Like, where else would he be?<p>

Like, why would he ever leave?

Her gaze seemed to be making him a little uncomfortable. He was almost – if she could believe it, and she almost wanted to take a picture just to prove to Dawn it had happened – _blushing_. It was…well, she couldn't lie, it was kind of cute.

"Why did you stop here?" she asked.

Spike, flustered, looked around. "Well, I – er, it's your house, innit, and I figured that you'd want to – go in, you were saying about Dawn and –"

"I meant here, near the front door. Dawn's asleep, I won't go in that way. Come on."

Hand reaching for his again, she tugged him over to the tree that stood by her window. Scaling it quickly, she tumbled onto the makeshift balcony effortlessly. He waited at the base, looking (despite his leather jacket and mussed platinum hair) like an awkward fifteen-year-old at the end of his first date.

"Come on!" she hissed again. His brow furrowed.

"You want me to…? Well, all right." Then, in as much time as it'd take her to blink, he climbed up to meet her.

The moonlight reflected off of his hair, bringing his features into even sharper contrast. His blue eyes bore into her with surprising intensity as he looked back at her. She wasn't sure how, but somehow Spike always surprised her. He seemed all of a sudden too close and much too far from her, and he had that vulnerable look on his face he sometimes got that always made her give a little more than she had expected to. The look that broke down her walls, brick by brick, until here they were standing on her balcony and she was 100% - well, maybe 97% - but there was that look and she was back up to 101% at least – ready to invite him into her bedroom.

Not for _that_, she reminded herself. No matter what her body screamed, she wasn't about to go that far. She had a bad habit of jumping in too quickly with guys, sometimes physically and sometimes emotionally, and she really didn't want this to go south immediately. The practical, Slayer-y part of her thought this especially, since his list of her fighters hadn't been all that impressive save for two. These two. If she lost him…all bets were off, and her money was already on Glory.

Was that a mixed metaphor? Whatever. She didn't gamble, except with people's lives.

Buffy cleared her throat. "Uh, you can – come in." She leaned over to push the window up, feeling strangely vulnerable herself. Metaphorical walls and literal walls were – kind of different.

He followed her through cautiously, almost losing his balance. Once inside, he laid his duster on the windowsill. Angel and Riley had always seemed too tall in her bedroom, like they were dwarfing the compact space. Spike, only a few inches taller than her, fit like he'd always been there.

It was like she'd let out a sigh she didn't know she needed to let go of. He was watching her carefully, in a way that reminded her of when they were both predators, hunting each other. He was checking her reactions, waiting to see what she would do.

She sat on her bed and looked at him for a second longer before she said, "This isn't about, well, you know, what you probably want it to be about. I'm not there. But…Dawn's in the next room and…I meant what I said, about family. It's a different kind of family, but…you still are."

Buffy suddenly wished she'd turned on the light so she could see his expression more clearly. _Not all of us have super vamp night vision, mister,_ she sassed silently. _Some of us have to make do with – well, okay, enhanced humany night vision. _

"Yeah?" he said, in what was probably supposed to sound encouraging. He actually just sounded a little scared, and she had to stifle a little laugh at that. William the Bloody, Slayer of Slayers, was afraid – not because she'd threatened to stake or burn him, but because she was inviting him into her life.

It was okay. She was a little scared, too. Buffy took a breath. "Do you, I mean, do you want to spend the night here?"

Spike looked shocked, and sat down next to her gingerly. "Well, I…" he began, after he seemed to regain control of his motor functions. "Yeah, that'd be great. I'll just go downstairs and –"

"No," she said, more strongly this time. "_Here_ here."

His brow furrowed again. "But you said –"

"Nothing – naked."

"Doesn't have to involve – " he started, in that low, seductive voice, and although she could tell he was half kidding, she cut him off with a quick "no".

"Just…staying. With me."

She watched his face carefully. Some part of her, despite knowing his dedication to her, felt sure he'd laugh. How pathetic was she? Buffy the Vampire Slayer, asking her ex-mortal enemy to make with the cuddles. If there was a Pathetic Hall of Fame, she was definitely in it.

"Sure," he said finally, looking surprised even as he spoke. "Yeah, I'll just – take my shoes off."

Hurriedly, he began to pull off his black boots. _Huh. No socks_. "I guess that's a benefit about the whole being-dead thing. No smelly feet," she observed, as she took her own shoes off and stripped away the socks. _Yechh_. She suddenly wished she could say the same.

"Turn around," Buffy instructed, pulling nightclothes out of a drawer. Spike obeyed, and she slipped the pajamas over her body as quickly as possible, not really trusting him not to peek. He was still kind of evil, after all.

"Okay, it's safe."

She started pulling the covers away, when a thought occurred to her. "How do you sleep in those tight pants?"

He looked embarrassed. "I don't."

"Boxers then?"

"In the nude." He didn't say it in that proud, trying-to-be-sexy-and-unfortunately-succeeding voice, but she still had a flash of images that made her turn red.

"Oh," she said, about an octave higher than her normal voice, and busied herself with the covers and pillows.

"Sorry," Spike mumbled. "Didn't mean to –"

"It's fine, just – bad thoughts."

"Oh." He sounded disappointed.

"No, not – _bad _bad. Good bad. Too-good, bad."

"Really?"

"Yeah." She looked at him. Layers peeled away, he didn't look like bad news. Just – a guy. A guy who was looking at her like she hadn't been looked at in a long time. "Just sleeping," she reminded him.

"Scout's honor."

They tucked into bed after Buffy closed the window. At first, she was on her back, but after a while she was achey and not sleepy at all. Spike felt a little tense beside her, too, so she knew he wasn't asleep. She rolled over in his direction and nuzzled her head a little at his shoulder, tiredness making her bolder. "But cuddling is okay," she murmured into the soft fabric of his shirt.

The vampire turned halfway to face her and draped an arm across her midsection. He was cool to the touch, but not unpleasantly so. Just a sort of nice relief through her clothing, she thought, and it was so achingly familiar that for a moment she pretended it was Angel. But when the moment passed, she discovered that she didn't really want it to be. Spike was looking at her through half-lidded eyes, a contented smile on his face. "Like this?"

She squirmed a little closer and sighed. "Yeah. Like this."

* * *

><p>He could hold her forever like this. Hold her until they were both dust, him from the sunlight and her from the inevitable ravage of time. She was warm and alive, but more than that. She was <em>Buffy<em>, a woman with more walls and secrets and quirks than any he'd ever known, and to have been invited into her inner sanctum like this…

He respected her, always had. He wanted her, always had but didn't know it. He loved her, and he knew that with more assurance now than he ever had before. He was hers completely, and if he lost his life tomorrow because of it, so be it. He'd always been a fool for love, but this passion was completely indescribable.

She sighed again into his shoulder, her breathing becoming steadier and deeper as she relaxed. Spike hadn't done a thing to deserve this, and in fact he'd done quite a lot that should have prevented anything this good from happening to him, but it was happening and he wasn't about to complain. Who was he to deny the Slayer her comfort, especially if he happened to benefit?

Slowly, he let himself drift off to sleep, aware only of the woman who lay next to him. As her body rose and fell in the rhythm of sleep, his began to imitate, even though he didn't require the oxygen. The last thing he remembered before losing himself entirely to sleep was pressing a single kiss onto Buffy's forehead.

* * *

><p>Buffy woke, feeling rested but devoid of some familiar comfort. She shifted closer to the remembered body, but found herself alone. She opened her eyes.<p>

Had Spike really been there, or had it all been a dream? She stifled a yawn as she sat up. He'd probably left before dawn so he wouldn't burn up. _Smart, I guess, but a little disappointing_. She'd been looking forward to waking up next to him, although she could only really admit that to herself now, when she was alone. His duster was gone from the windowsill, but as she rose, she noticed that his boots were still propped in the corner.

Where would Spike go barefoot? She padded through the house, whispering his name (it wouldn't really be good if Dawn heard, after all), but he was nowhere to be found.

She sat down on the living room couch, forced to confront the truth. Spike was gone.


	6. Chapter 6

A Spark of Love

_Chapter Six_

* * *

><p><em>Previously: <em>Buffy invites Spike to spend the night after a patrol. Nothing sexual, just cuddling - but when she wakes up, he's missing...

* * *

><p>Was this the hangover from hell? His head hurt like one of the last times he'd come to Sunnydale, back when he was still pining after Dru. Spike couldn't remember drinking, though. In fact, he couldn't remember much of anything.<p>

The pain in his head dulled slightly and he grimaced. More like a hangover courtesy of the Hellmouth. This hadn't come from a night of fun at all. No, he remembered it all too well. Remembered the Slayer rolling over and him craving a smoke. Going outside just before the light of day, just enjoying the air and the smoke and the smell of Buffy still lingering on his skin. Then getting snatched up by some grimy little buggers and ending up…here. Wherever the hell that was.

His vision was still clearing, but he could definitely smell the overwhelming perfume that pervaded the room. A figure was moving around on the other side of the room, but he couldn't quite make it out.

Definitely a bird. He squinted – blonde hair. She was muttering to herself, something about her keys.

No. Her _Key_. Yeah, it was definitely the horror of a bint. The hellgod. Glory.

"Oh, it's awake," she said suddenly, coming closer to him and looking interested. Not the good kind of interested – more like the I-want-to-wear-your-entrails kind of interested.

Not that he was scared of her. A little bit of healthy fear and adrenaline, yeah. Wiring him up for the fight. Course, he wasn't going to get far, chained up like this.

"Not an it," he managed to growl. "Definitely male, got the parts to prove it."

"Well, maybe we should…fix that problem," the bottle-blonde beauty-school-reject sneered.

Spike tried to smirk right back, like he knew he was going to be okay. He'd get out somehow, yeah? Couldn't be the end of the road, not like this, hung up and tortured by some hellbitch. "Threats to my manhood, eh? You'll have to be a bit more original than that, _pet_. Slayer tells me worse on daily basis."

Slayer. Would she come for him? Leave Dawn with no protection? It'd be too risky. He was as good as dead in her eyes. He understood that, couldn't fault her at all. Undead bloke, not even her boyfriend, not even her lover, even if he did get to share her bed. Wasn't the same as her sis. Her own flesh and blood.

So he'd stick it out, try to escape on his own terms. And he wouldn't tell the skinny bint a thing. For Dawn. For Buffy.

For Joyce.

Glory'd been talking, but he tuned her out. As soon as she started digging her nails into his flesh, though, she became a bit harder to ignore. He squeezed his eyes shut, feeling the blood begin to leak from his body, and found himself hoping, praying, that somehow she'd come for him.

* * *

><p>Buffy waited until Dawn was safe at school. She knew telling her sister anything about Spike maybe-possibly-no-it-can't-be being in danger would result in Dawn insisting she had to tag along. That was too risky. She'd be safe at the school, right?<p>

As long as Spike didn't say anything. Buffy had a sinking suspicion that Glory had taken him, somehow, for information. Information on Dawn.

Could he hold out? Spike cared about Dawn, sure, she'd seen enough evidence of that. And he loved her, as much as he could. But how much was that, exactly? How much could he love minus a soul?

Maybe she'd started to believe him when he said he loved her. And maybe she'd started to trust him, more than she'd trusted anyone since Angel. But suddenly, when that was all in danger of crashing, her faith in him was starting to feel way shaky. What did she have from him? A lot of pretty words. Working with her, okay, but he got off on that.

Another part of her was screaming at her for thinking about this when Spike was probably being tortured - if he wasn't already dust. Her stomach turned. Maybe she didn't trust him fully, and maybe she wasn't quite in love with him, but she was most of the way there. The thought of never seeing him smirk or sigh or give her that hopeless little half-smile –

"Giles," she said, out of breath (more from her panic than the exertion of running). "I need your help."

He looked up from some book or the other. Why was he always looking at books, she wondered, a little frantic. Who could look at books when Spike was gone and Dawn might be in danger and she needed to halt that train of thought, right now. Pull up the tracks.

An expression of concern instantly filled Giles's face. He closed the book and set it down without a second glance. "Buffy, what is it?"

"Um," she said dumbly, looking down at her hands for a second and trying to remember how the English language worked. "Spike is…he's gone. I think it was Glory."

"You mean, he's…dead?"

"No! Well, I don't think so. I don't know." Of their own accord, her hands had started wringing themselves. Huh. "I think he was taken. For…information."

"I see," her Watcher said seriously, removing his glasses because – because of course he would. This was Giles and that was what he did. "Er – how do you know this?"

She froze, and quite a lot of non-Watcher-friendly words ran through her mind. How _did_ she know? What was her excuse?

"He…wasn't at his crypt," she said quickly. "I went to go see him to ask about a patrol, you know, for tonight and he wasn't there."

Giles began to polish his glasses. "How do you know he did not just go out for a – stroll or – well, whatever Spike does in his free time?"

"Uh, number one, Giles? It's day. And b – or two, whatever – he left his shoes and his duster. I'm telling you, it's seriously fishy."

"So what are you suggesting?" he asked, in a tired voice. "That we simply rush into Glory's place of residence on a – a hunch?"

"Well, yeah," Buffy said in a small voice.

God, this was not working. She needed to switch tacks. "I mean, he knows about Dawn," she added more confidently. "And that's exactly what we don't need Glory to hear."

She could tell he was considering this. Something was bubbling in her stomach: foreboding, maybe, or anxiety. Worry.

She couldn't lie to herself. She was worried about what Spike would say, but at a deeper level, she was more worried about him. He had been such a constant in her life lately, and she'd grown really used to him being there, and to have him _not_ there was just decidedly not right. It was off.

Giles picked up the phone and called the others; Buffy tried not to pace.

* * *

><p>Spike wasn't sure how long it had been. He had lost consciousness again at some point – pig's blood just wasn't top notch, and he'd been running low anyway. The hellbitch was vicious in her torture, but she wasn't creative. She was no Angelus. Just the usual: beating him, with whatever random objects she had lying around; ripping into him with those sharp fingernails of hers; using some hot pokers, of course. It was altogether uninspired, even if it hurt like hell.<p>

Still, it didn't matter what she did.

As he thought this, Glory flopped down on her bed. "Ugh, was torture always this _hard_?" she whined. "It was fun at first but now it's just…boring."

One of her ugly little minions stepped up. "Your most splendiferousness, if I may. Our captive – he is a vampire, is he not?"

Even through his swollen eyes, Spike could make out the scathing look on Glory's face. Made her look like a very conceited hen. He tried to laugh, but a couple of his ribs seemed to have cracked at some point.

"Duh," she answered. "Tell me something I _don't_ know. Oh wait, that'll never happen. What's your point?"

He cleared his throat nervously. "Well, your shininess, vampires have certain weaknesses."

"Like what, crosses?" she scoffed. "Holy water? Fire?" Suddenly, she looked interested. "Hmm, fire. That's not too bad of an idea." Glory suddenly grinned toothily and turned fully to the bugger. "Got a light?"

Fumbling, he produced a lighter, and she snatched it out of his hand. Spike felt his whole body tense – or everything that wasn't too much in pain to care, anyway. He closed his eyes, but he still smelled her as she moved closer. She smelled vile, like evil and sickness and drugstore perfume. Most of all, she smelled far too clean. It was unnatural, was what it was. Not like Buffy's scent at all. She was – she was earth and light vanilla, a little bit of blood and a little bit of sweat. She smelled like power, honestly come by.

In fact, if he concentrated just on that and not on the flames tickling his flesh (just enough to hurt like hell, not enough to catch him on fire properly…so the bint knew what she was doing after all), he could almost smell her now. He took a long whiff. Yeah, beyond the smell of the lighter, the perfume, and his blood, there was her scent, clearly discernible.

Bugger all, he was losing it. Had to be, because he could almost hear her voice, too. Not just hers, either. Other Scoobies.

Spike opened his eyes. Glory hadn't noticed the sound. Her smile was as manic as ever, and he grimaced as she scratched her nails through his side. She brandished the lighter in his face. "You want to be dust, vampire? It'd be so easy, you know. Just a little…slip!"

He didn't say anything, not really trusting himself or his senses. If the Scoobies really were here, it wouldn't do to piss Glory off unduly until the time was right.

Yeah, the voices were definitely getting louder.

On the other hand, maybe a distraction was in order.

Spike cleared his throat, hoping he still had a voice. "Excuse me, when's the torture s'posed to start?" he asked hoarsely.

At first, Glory looked surprised, but then she assumed a look of feigned concern. "Oh, isn't this enough for you, vampire? Fine. You know, I am getting tired of playing. I'll make you tell me who the Key is if you have to scream it out with your last breath."

He wasn't listening; he could hear Buffy, loud and clear and beautiful. "Never," he rasped. "You think I haven't had bloody worse? I was trained by Angelus, who makes your pansy-arse torture look like a Martha Stewart dinner party."

She was looking really furious now. If he was just hallucinating, well, he could kiss his unlife goodbye. Glory hissed and leaned forward, presumably either to deliver a threat or to strangle him with her bare hands.

But just then, Buffy and company came bursting in like big damn heroes. Glory spun around to face them, and Spike lost consciousness again.

* * *

><p>Spike looked like utter hell. Buffy tried not to grimace just looking at him, but he was more torn up than she'd ever seen him before.<p>

She'd heard what Glory had said when they were still outside, so she knew that a) he hadn't told, and b) he had been conscious until just recently. As she looked at him, though, he was slumped in the chains.

At least he wasn't dust. Buffy channeled all of her emotions, all the worry about Dawn and Spike, and concentrated them into a single glare at Glory. "You're going to regret doing this," she told the hellgod, sounding a lot more confident than she felt.

"Pffff," Glory said nonchalantly, tossing her curly hair. There was blood caked on her hands – Spike's blood. Buffy took a deep breath. "What are you going to do to me, Bunny? Pun really hard until I wipe you all over the floor?"

"I was thinking more punch you so hard you'd see the curvature of the Earth," she tossed back matter-of-factly, thinking quickly. Giles and Xander were supposed to get Spike out while Willow backed her up with magic. So far, Glory seemed mostly focused on Buffy, but she wasn't _that_ blonde. (In fact, Buffy suspected it was a bottle job anyway).

So that meant, if they were to have any hope of rescuing Spike and getting out alive, she needed to get with the distracting. Buffy picked up a discarded poker from the floor and launched herself at Glory, vaguely aware of Willow mumbling Latin-y sounding things behind her.

Whatever Willow was doing, it was slowing Glory down just a little. But a little was all Buffy needed. With all the force she could muster, she slammed the poker down on her head, simultaneously thrusting her leg out in a high kick. The hellgod stumbled, but didn't go down.

She heard the clinking of chains. How long would it take? More importantly, how long could she last against Glory? The other woman threw a punch at her, and Buffy barely dodged it. Even with enhanced Slayer reflexes, she was barely quick enough to avoid the blows Glory was beginning to aim at her.

Buffy almost stumbled into a chair. She spun, planning to use the chair to knock Glory off balance. The hellgod anticipated this move, though, and Buffy's momentum tossed her onto the floor. She leaped up quickly and threw herself back into the fray with a flurry of blows, none of which landed. Glory clocked her hard and she took a few steps back.

There had definitely been a click, and she heard heavy footsteps. Good, because she was kind of starting to bleed. The hellgod barreled toward her.

Buffy leaped against the wall, kicking straight up more to deter the woman than to damage her. To her surprise, it connected, and Glory let out an angry shriek. The door slammed shut.

Leaping over the couch, Buffy bolted. _Almost th-_

Her hair was caught in Glory's hands. She struggled to get free, punching blindly. "What?" Glory taunted. "Are you mad because I bruised up your boytoy?"

She growled and elbowed up. The hands gripping her relaxed. "Stay the hell away from him!"

Buffy sprinted away, thoughts spinning faster and faster. Somehow, she knew Glory wouldn't come after them. It wasn't just luck or skill or even Willow's magic that had made it possible for her to land those hits. Glory was weakened by something.

And right now, Buffy didn't care what it was. Spike was alive. Dawn was safe – at least for now. She was running so hard, burning adrenaline and excitement, that she almost completely missed Giles's car.

Which he wasn't in. Huh.

Xander sat in the front seat, and Spike was in the back, apparently awake. He looked like he was holding on by a thread. Willow was also in the back, and judging by her expression, she was exhausted. Giles had one of Glory's little minions shoved against the shiny red hood.

"Oh, Buffy!" he greeted cheerfully. Weirdly cheerfully. "Thought I might try to get some information out of this vermin."

"Um, okay," she said, heart still pounding in her ears. "Is everyone okay?"

Xander gave her a thumbs up, although he kept shooting worried looks at Willow. Giles had apparently done something to the diseased-looking minion. He (she? it?) was cringing away from her Watcher.

"Why did you take the vampire?" Giles demanded.

"I was instructed to find someone who m-might know about the Key!"

Spike's eyes were barely open. Almost unconsciously, Buffy came closer, feeling a swell of concern. She reached out and touched his arm, ignoring the wounds as best she could. His skin was colder than usual, probably thanks to the loss of blood. He closed his eyes in apparent appreciation of the touch.

She didn't want to stop touching him. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she processed that Giles was still talking.

"Why him?"

"He was the closest to the Slayer, except for the smaller one, her sister. The great Glorificus already questioned the child, and she knows nothing."

Spike's breathing was becoming more even. Buffy looked Willow. "Are _you_ okay?"

The witch shrugged. "I'll live. It wasn't anyway near as bad as that transportation spell, but still not exactly a piece of cake. Or any dessert, for that matter."

"Dessert later," Buffy promised.

"The closest to the Slayer," Giles repeated. "Why would you say that?"

Her breath caught at the minion's next words, but she didn't turn. "I assumed he is her lover. We saw him leaving her bedchambers in the early morning today."

She wasn't sure, but it definitely seemed like the world stopped moving.

Buffy looked at the ground, feeling the eyes on her and not ready to meet them yet. "I think we should go," she said in a quiet voice.

Silently, Giles released the minion, who scampered back. Buffy squeezed in next to Xander.

What should she say? What could she say?

"_Oh no, I wasn't having sex with my former mortal enemy, we were just snuggling_."

Would she believe her if she was someone else? Probably not.

She sneaked a look at Xander, who seemed to be avoiding her gaze entirely. Fine. Whatever.

She could fix things later. For now, everyone was okay, and that was enough.

* * *

><p>Spike was vaguely aware of a presence beside him, so he opened his eyes. There was color – bright hair, and a voice that he knew.<p>

Also a throbbing headache, but he wasn't going to think about that right now.

"Red?" he croaked out. The girl started.

"Oh, thank goddess," she breathed. "I was worried you were gonna think I was Buffy because – well, when Angel – and he thought I was – and you know, I probably shouldn't bring that up right now, should I?" she added hurriedly, at the unconscious growl that escaped his throat.

"Maybe not," Spike said dryly. Was difficult to try and be witty when his body felt like it'd been hit by a semi, but he had to keep up appearances.

She shrugged. "Anyway, he was shot with a poison arrow, and you just…"

"Got the hell beaten out of me by a chit calls herself a god?"

"You know what, you're right. Comparison really isn't the thing for this situation," Willow said, smiling nervously. As if suddenly noticing it, she reached for the mug of blood on the nightstand and passed it to him.

The nightstand. He was in Buffy's room, lying in her bed. Probably getting blood all over her nice sheets.

"Where is she?"

The redhead didn't even need to ask who he meant. "Downstairs, with, uh, Giles and Xander."

Something in her tone made him tense. Spike tried to bite it back. The hell was wrong with him? Just the bleedin' Scoobies. Not his favorite people in the world, admittedly, but something was off. "Is everybody alright?" he asked carefully.

"Nobody's hurt," Willow said, obviously trying to keep her tone even. Something was in those big pretty eyes, though. He frowned.

"Nothing wrong with Glinda, is there?" Oh, balls. The concern in his voice was genuine. Might as well hang up his evil badge of honor and throw away his duster and cigarettes.

It took her a moment to decipher who he meant. "Oh, Tara? No, she's fine. She was in class, I didn't want her to-"

"Be in the middle of it. Smart." He handed her back the drained mug.

With a sigh, she set it on the nightstand. "No, it's, well, okay, were you – you know, conscious for anything?"

"Well, for a bit. Remember seeing the Slayer come in and – yeah, that's it."

"That's probably a really good thing."

"Red, would you just tell me what the bleedin' hell is going on?" He struggled to sit up. "'ve half a mind to go down and find out for myself."

"No, mister, you are staying as put as put can be," she said firmly, and he thought he saw a little bit of her famous "Resolve Face". "You'd just make things worse for Buffy."

He glared.

"Don't pout at me!"

"I'm not pouting! Vampires don't pout."

She grinned suddenly. "That sounds like the title of a book for little kids. Ooh! It could have a picture of a little pouty vampire in a black coat on the cover."

"Don't think you can bloody distract me," Spike said sullenly. "What's going on?"

Willow made a few interesting faces before sighing and looking back at him. "Some…news got out. Of the you-and-Buffy sort."

If he'd still been drinking the blood, he would have spit it out. "What?"

She was giving him a different look now. All shifty and suspicious. Right, maybe she wasn't going to be too fond of the vampire in love with her best friend, but it wasn't like she didn't already know that part. "So it's true," she said, narrowing her eyes.

"I don't even know what you're talking about, _Will_. Anybody ever told you you oughta be a lawyer?"

"Don't get cute with me! Did you or did you not spend last night in this very bed?"

"No, I – well, yeah, I did. But nothing happened!"

He wasn't really sure why he was so bent on proving his "innocence", except for thinking what it would do to Buffy. That, and he didn't really want to be alone with an angry witch, especially if she was gonna try and punish him for a crime he didn't even commit. Normally, he could take her no problem (if not for that bleeding chip, anyway), but he had about three working bones left in his body by his estimation.

"You really expect me to believe you?" she asked, eyeing him.

Spike rolled his eyes. "Would I really be denying it if something did happen between me and the Slayer? 'Sides, it's not anyone's business. I seem to remember you keepin' the secret about little miss Maclay for a good while."

"So something _did _happen," Willow said triumphantly.

"_No_," he said, exasperated. "But if it did, it wouldn't be any of your bloody business, is what I'm saying. Isn't Buffy your 'bestie', anyway? Let her tell you in her own time. No need to corner poor old Spike."

"Well, Giles and Xander are already giving her the whole 'intervention' treatment," the witch confessed, looking at her hands.

"What?"

* * *

><p>Buffy was so over this. One thousand and twenty percent over this. She got over the whole "we're worried about your life choices, Buffy" thing in high school, and she was way, way over getting called out over the vampire who just got tortured and didn't give anything away.<p>

She channeled her inner Cordelia and said exactly that.

Xander looked a little abashed. Giles took off his glasses for like the five millionth time.

Okay, so to back up, when they'd gotten back to Revello Drive things were still all with the awkward silence. Then, she'd asked for help getting Spike up to her bedroom, and Xander had said, "Don't you have enough experience doing that on your own?"

He regretted it, she knew. It was one of those Xander-things, where he said it out of spite and then a second later wished he hadn't. Still pissed her off, though, especially in addition to Giles's near-constant sighs and Willow's worried looks.

They'd had this whole long conversation, during which she specified to them that a) she had not slept with Spike, b) it was none of their damn business if she had, but c) she still hadn't and d) they should back off and calm down and Xander, go home to Anya, have you even called her she's probably worried sick.

Oh, she's still working? Well, go to the store then.

He left after that, looking apologetic. Buffy figured he probably believed her. Convincing Giles, on the other hand, was like selling ice to a penguin. That analogy didn't even match up, but whatever. Mental strain.

"So, just to reiterate, the…whatever-it-was is wrong in making assumptions," Giles said finally.

"Right."

"You and Spike are not involved in any way."

She paused. _Can I really say no_? They hadn't done anything, really, except for a few kisses, but he was definitely in her life. "We're partners," she said firmly. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go up and check on the man who just saved all of our lives."

Buffy was halfway up the steps before she realized that she'd called Spike a man. Not a monster, not a vampire, not a thing. A man.

The front door closed softly. She sighed. She could make nice with Giles tomorrow.

She walked in the bedroom door to find Willow and Spike chatted animatedly. It was a little wiggy, actually. _Since when are they friend-adjacent?_

"Hey," Buffy said softly. Spike's eyes met hers, and she felt herself incapable of breaking the gaze. It didn't matter that he was scarred and wounded – it did, of course, but not as far as his eyes. As long as his eyes were still all bright and blue and longing, everything was going to be okay.

Willow stood and mumbled something about heating up more blood. Buffy knew that normal human behavior would involve acknowledging that in some way, but by the time she realized, the witch was gone.

Probably for the best.

She sat down on the edge of the bed, feeling a little out of place. Which was dumb, because, hello, her room. Not to mention she spent the night before cuddled up to this same man who now sat bruised before her.

Wow, was that really just last night? Buffy felt tired, suddenly, more from the emotions of the day than from physical exhaustion. "How are you?" she asked, looking for a distraction.

"'m fine," he mumbled. She gave him a look. Spike rolled his eyes. "Alright, yeah, I've been better. But all my limbs are in working order, I think. How's the Niblet?"

She nodded. "Doing her homework. She'll be fine. Thanks to you."

"Buffy, don't – don't bloody say it like that."

She pulled back. "I thought you'd want me to acknowledge what you did. Isn't that what you've always wanted? For me to 'see you'."

"Not like this," he said, voice full of a quiet fury. His blue eyes blazed, but they focused on a point somewhere behind her head. "Not all…broken. Got snatched up because I was an idiot, a lovestruck wanker not watching my back. Couldn't fight my way out. I'm not as tough as I like to put on, you know."

"I do know," she sighed, suddenly feeling the need to comfort him. Buffy had come to check on him and to thank him.

But that wasn't what he needed, and it wasn't really what she needed either. They needed, right now, to just be. Not to be the Slayer and Spike, ex-mortal enemies, saviors of the world, et cetera et cetera. Just to be Buffy and William, as strange as it seemed to think of him with that name.

"Kiss me," Buffy said.

He looked at her in some confusion. "Pet, I don't need your sympathy."

"Not sympathy."

"Well, alright, then."

* * *

><p>Bit silly, really, being a godforsaken hellbound creature of the night, but he could swear he heard the angels singing when she kissed him. This wasn't like before, nothing forced or unsure about it. She was gentle, and he tried to return the same tenderness, but there was passion, certainly. Buffy wasn't tentative. She was putting all of her in the kiss, or so he felt, anyway, so he poured himself into it as well.<p>

She was so _hot_, so alive. His hands tangled in her hair and she made the most delightful little noise in the back of her throat and leaned further into him, nearly straddling him. It hurt like hell, of course, but he'd heal. This was more important.

Something crashed in the distance and Buffy sprung away. Spike made an automatic noise of disapproval and looked up.

"I, I'm sorry," Red was stammering nervously, trying to gather up a broken mug. Looked like this one had been full of tea, not blood, a small blessing for Buffy's carpet or what have you. Willow was red in more than one way right now, face on fire with embarrassment. He raised an eyebrow at her, but she didn't seem to be ready to look him directly in the eye.

"Sorry," he murmured in Buffy's ear. He really wasn't, of course. Just a bit of spilled leaf water, and maybe Will would take some time to recover from the shock, but his lips still had delicious Buffy-taste. Languorously, he licked them, looking at the Slayer. She gave him a dirty look (not the kind of dirty he was hoping for), and stood up.

"Don't apologize," Willow said, before Buffy could get a word in edgewise. "I, well, I know what – I mean, what the little fuzzy hobbit-thing said, and I was like, oh, I don't know, but then you looked all flustered so I was like, well maybe, you know, but then Giles and Xander – and I didn't want to be like that and just attack you so I was up here talking to Spike and – _you_ said there was nothing going on!" she accused.

Spike tried to look innocent, but he could tell from the girls' looks that he had failed. Buffy rolled her eyes.

Oh well. Red looked more shocked and self-righteous than actually angry. She and her lover would probably take it the best, anyway.

Whatever "it" ended up being. So far the only thing that seemed to be happening between him and Buffy was working together and occasionally kissing until something or someone interrupted.

"Anyway, I'm gonna go so you two can, uh, rest, and Buffy?" Willow gave her a serious look. "Best friend fuzzy watercolor phone call or I'll start going all intervention-y, too."

"Will do," she promised, and they watched Willow go. As soon as the front door closed, Buffy snuggled in next to him again. He tried to put his arm around her, but found it wasn't really moving properly. Why did good things always happen when he was too beat up to appreciate them?

She put her head on his shoulder and yawned. "Just a little nap until Dawn is done with her homework."

"Just a li'l nap, love," he agreed, pressing a kiss to her forehead.


	7. Chapter 7

A Spark of Love

_Chapter Seven_

* * *

><p><em>Previously: <em>Buffy and company save Spike from Glory, but a minion reveals that they kidnapped Spike because they saw him leaving Buffy's bedroom (for a smoke). Xander and Giles stage an intervention, but Buffy insists that they're just platonic partners. Willow takes care of Spike, but then she catches him and Buffy kissing. Buffy agrees to take just a small nap with the drained Spike.

* * *

><p>She rolled over drowsily, letting out a deep sigh that turned into a yawn. <em>Yeah, this is comfy.<em> Spike stirred next to her, but the vampire didn't wake. She nuzzled a little closer to him, enjoying the cool touch of his skin.

Then just as she was about to drift back off to sleep, her eyes caught sight of the clock. Or, more specifically, the time on the clock. Buffy cringed, leaped out of bed, and rushed downstairs without so much as a second glance back. Well, okay, maybe a second glance, but a really short one.

_God, I am the worst person ever!_ She thought, a little frantic as she rushed into the living room.

Dawn, sprawled on the sofa with a bowl of microwave popcorn, looked up at her with evident amusement. "Everything okay?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Mm," Buffy said, still feeling a little woozy and shell-shocked. Or maybe, more accurately, Spike-shocked. It was strange to think of him still sleeping peacefully in her bed. Would he miss her warmth? Did he know she was gone?

Suddenly starving, she grabbed a handful of popcorn and shoved it into her mouth. She immediately gagged. "What did you put in this?" she demanded, making a face.

"Chili powder. And cinnamon," her sister said matter-of-factly, stretching back against the couch. "It's delicious."

She coughed a little, but it didn't quite get the weird taste out of her mouth. "Did you finish your homework?" Buffy asked, leaning on the back of the sofa and trying to sound appropriately responsible and not at all like someone who had napped away most of the evening.

"Yes, _mom_," Dawn replied sarcastically. A second passed before she realized what she had said and cringed. "Sorry," she mumbled, picking apart a piece of popcorn.

Buffy's heart panged. "It's okay," she said softly.

"So how's Spike?"

_Cuddly_. "He'll be fine. Just needs, you know, blood. And time."

"That was really brave, what he did," Dawn said, looking at the TV but obviously expecting a response from Buffy.

Oh yeah, she was fishing for something. And it was time to get over the denial, wasn't it? She'd sort of fessed up to Willow, anyway. But Dawn was different. Spike was practically family to her – admitting whatever she could admit to Dawn would make it real.

Finally, Buffy nodded. "Yeah, it was." Nothing wrong with saying that, anyway. It _was_ brave. Her appreciation of that fact had nothing to do with that squiggly stomach feeling she was developing whenever she saw the vampire.

Her sister eyed her suspiciously, resemblance to Joyce suddenly uncanny. Buffy felt kind of squirmy and guilty, even if she hadn't done anything wrong. Cuddling with vampires who saved your family wasn't wrong. Probably. "Was what Xander and Giles were saying – was it true? About you and Spike, I mean. You can tell me if it is."

On the other hand, lying to Dawn's face wasn't really a viable option. "Um…yes," she said lamely.

Dawn crunched obnoxiously, clearly savoring the moment. "So you guys are…'lovers'?"

Ugh, _so _not the word she wanted to hear from her kid sister. "I hope I never have to hear that sentence from you again. Until you're at least forty-six, anyway. And no, we're not – "

"But you're a thing." Dawn smirked. Had she always done that so much? _Definitely too much quality time with Spike._ "And again I say: I told you so."

Buffy took another handful of popcorn, screwing up her face as she did so. It was pretty bad, but gross food trumped no food, and her stomach was still screaming for nourishment. She probably should have made real dinner. Now that she was up, she should probably also heat up more blood and bring it to Spike. How much would it take for him to feel like himself again? The only time she'd really had to nurse Angel back to health this much was when that whole poison thing went down, but that was Slayer blood and she wasn't going down that path again. Unless he was poisoned, maybe, but she would have enough sense this time to drain the blood herself and give it to him in a glass or something. She'd spent enough time at the hospital for like five lifetimes.

"Do you love him?" Dawn asked suddenly.

She blinked. Somehow, that question coming from Angel had seemed totally normal. Predictable, even. The jealous vampire crap was practically the norm in her life. But a game of soul-searching twenty questions with her little sister? Not so much.

In a creeptastic, psychic way, Dawn replied quickly, "You know, I'm really way older than you. Also, if you don't tell me, you'll still tell Willow, won't you? And - and she'll tell Tara, and Tara will totally tell me. So you might as well spill now and cut out the middleman."

Buffy sighed. "Dawn, it's – and I know this is like cliché times a million – complicated."

"More complicated than my algebra homework?" she asked sardonically, kicking the textbook that she was using as a footstool. "I think not. C'mon, Buffy, I'm not asking for all the deets. It's a simple question."

"I don't have a simple answer for you," Buffy said flatly. "And you need to go to bed. You've got school tomorrow."

Her sister mumbled something under her breath that sounded suspiciously insulting, but Buffy decided to slide since Dawn actually got up and put the empty bowl in the kitchen. She slumped down against the couch and sighed. The little nap she'd taken hadn't done anything to alleviate the crushing tiredness that was currently making her grouchier than the Grinch at Christmas. She glanced at the clock. It wasn't too late to call Willow, but what was the point? She'd just ask more questions. Questions that Buffy didn't have the answer to.

It was funny, she thought a little crossly, how everybody seemed way more concerned about her current feelings toward Spike than he was. He wasn't asking her if she was in love with him or pushing anything with her. In a way, it made it easier to be with him, as wrong as it still felt. Those weren't butterflies in her stomach – more like squirming worms.

Buffy began heating up some blood, stirring it absentmindedly. Whose business was it what she did, or who she chose to do it with? _Nobody, that's who_. All they'd done was kiss, but it wouldn't be her friends' business even if they'd been spending every spare second having kinky public sex.

She contemplated this righteous anger as she poured the blood into a mug. If Spike had been well enough to protect Dawn, she would have been out in the fray right now just working off all of this unexpected tension.

Unbidden, Spike's voice came to mind. _"There are other ways…"_

Buffy shivered slightly and ascended the stairs, but every step just made that voice a little louder and little more tempting.

* * *

><p>The smell woke him up before his brain even had a chance to register her voice calling his name. The scents were intoxicating: warm blood (even if it was pig's blood, he was so bloody starving he would have drained rats like Angel if any were around), cinnamon, and best of all, <em>Buffy<em>. He inhaled and let out something like a strangled groan. Opening his eyes, he was greeted with the beautiful sight of Buffy. She was blushing a bit for some reason he was too knackered to analyze as she held up a crappy-looking black mug with a straw.

_No point wasting the good stuff, I suppose. At least it doesn't say "Kiss the Librarian"_, he thought with some amusement. _Helluva lot better than my time spent at old Ripper's. Think Slayer might have enjoyed handcuffing me, though._

Like she was reading his mind, she ducked her head and reddened a little more, looking away from his gaze. "Uh…here." She thrust the mug toward him, and he gratefully took it.

Well, hell with it. If she was going to act like some bleeding blushing bride and not look him in the eyes, he was going to give her something to blush about. Spike swiped his tongue over the straw sensuously, tilting his head back and closing his eyes. After he took a small sip of the blood, his groan of pleasure was real, if exaggerated.

He heard her swallow and it took all of his damn self-control to keep a grin off his face. Spike opened his eyes, keeping them half-lidded, and regarded her. "Thanks," he said, sighing a little.

Buffy looked at him. There was something a little different in her eyes, not what he'd expected at all. The blush was gone, and she definitely wasn't looking all timid now. Nah, this was full Slayer mode. Scary and sexy all in one, his favorite combination. She was like a wild animal about to pounce, and if she was about to kill him he'd go down fighting and loving it.

Quietly, she took the mug from his hand and set it on the bedside stand. She was too still. Unnatural, what it was. Buffy was full of movement, full of life, full of fire –

But that was when he stopped thinking because her lips were on his again. She was warm and passionate, bearing down on him with all of her strength. It hurt – in the good way.

Instinctively, he wrapped his arms around her, ignoring the pain. Really wasn't that bad compared to earlier, and there wasn't a witch around this time to interrupt the good fun. (No offense to Red, but that was some of the worst timing he'd ever had the bad fortune to witness).

He tangled his hands into her blonde locks, enjoying the moan she produced against his lips as he did so. She was fully on top of him now, tiny frame in a stance more suited to attack than love. Course, with them, there wasn't much difference, was there?

"You," she said between fervent kisses, "are. Such. An. Asshole."

He chuckled, shifting his focus to her neck. She gasped as he pressed a deep kiss to a pressure point. "But you love it," he murmured, closing his eyes. For a second she did nothing but tremble against his touch

But she wasn't about to be submissive for long. She pinned him down, forcing him away from her, and began to tear at his shirt. It was all he could do to just enjoy the feeling of her scraping her fingernails against his skin as she pressed her lips against his again, and he mumbled his praises and curses into her mouth.

"Buffy," he managed as her lips moved down to his neck and chest. "The hell are you doing?"

"You're the one with a hundred years of experience, you tell me," she said breathily.

"Did you tell your little gang about us?" he heard himself saying.

Spike was really beginning to hate himself. Full-on Angel levels of self-loathing, even. Why wouldn't his mouth stop saying these bleeding idiotic words? He vaguely remembered the feeling of vomiting as a human. That's what this felt like. His words didn't usually come from his brain that much anyway, but this was insane. Had she drugged his blood? It was the only possible explanation for him being this much of a wanker at this very inopportune moment.

Obviously frustrated, she sat back and looked at him. "Why does that matter?" she asked quietly.

_It doesn't_, the part of him that wanted her so much it hurt prompted. But another, poncier part of him that he _absolutely hated_ at this moment, said, "Why not?"

Buffy was silent for a minute, and something suspiciously like guilt swept him. He shouldn't have put that look in her eyes, that far off look. Chit had it hard enough without him complicating things. Really, being here at all was wrong. She'd hate herself if she shagged him, on account of being all righteous and chosen, but she'd hate herself now if he had to be the voice of reason. Should have just kept his mouth shut, gotten out of the fix with Glory himself and crawled back to his crypt. He could have taken care of himself. Wasn't that bleedin' pathetic.

"It's none of their business," she said finally, still not looking at him.

He sighed. "Couldn't agree more, love, but I'm not sure you believe that."

"I do," Buffy said firmly, placing her hands back on his chest like she was convincing herself of something. "It's none of their business and it's none of Angel's business. Just forget about it."

Angel. Some kind of alarm went off in his mind.

"Thought you said you told Angel – something."

"I did."

She wasn't looking at him again, but her hands were still on him. "Come to think of it," he pushed a little more, sitting up to face her better. "Why didn't the Great Poof come on over to put a stake in my heart? Can't imagine he was pleased about that news."

"I told him not to," she said quietly.

"Right, 'cause that always works so bloody well," Spike said sarcastically. "Like when you told him to let you make your own decisions and he spends Thanksgiving stalking you. I'm not buying it, Buffy. Can't even blame him – I did nearly kill you a dozen times. What made Angel believe I wouldn't again? How did you convince him that I've – changed?"

God, he didn't want to hear her answer. He didn't want to have gone down this road at all, but it was too far to turn around, and although she was still touching him it was no longer with lust. Her grip had slackened, and it seemed like she was only there because she'd forgotten where else too be.

Buffy took a deep breath and he steeled himself. "I might have told Angel that you had your soul back."

* * *

><p>She had completely expected him to be pissed off. Buffy had anticipated yelling, probably. Glaring, definitely. Trying to get up and do his old-movie-villain angry-stalking-around-the-room thing, almost certainly. She didn't expect this quiet response. Spike looked like he'd had the wind knocked out of him – well, except for the fact that he didn't need oxygen to survive.<p>

Buffy felt a little like crying, but she wasn't going to give him that victory. She had done what was best for both of them, and she wasn't going to apologize. She told him that.

"Wouldn't expect you to," he said, barely above a whisper. "God, Buffy, I knew you'd be ashamed. Know I'm not good enough for you, I'm not a complete idiot. But you want to make me into something I'll never be. I'm never gonna be the guy you friends will like or that you can show off as a prize to your bleeding ex. If you're so ashamed of me, you should have just kept your mouth shut."

"I didn't tell him that because I'm ashamed," she protested.

She wasn't entirely sure that was true. Why had she told Angel that? Well, for one, she knew that if she told him the truth he would totally lose any semblance of maturity and go after Spike then and there. For another, she'd already let her feelings slip, and even if Angel didn't succeed in making Spike into a dust-bunny, he would definitely have told the others. Mostly Giles, which hello, she did not need.

And part of it, yeah, she kind of did want to pretend. She couldn't exactly pretend they were some normal couple, but she could at least pretend that they could _be_ a real couple.

Because they couldn't. She knew that, suddenly, with astounding clarity. He knew that too – or she hoped he did. He'd wanted her for a long time, apparently, and she wanted him now, but she couldn't have him. They couldn't have each other. That much was clear.

God, the look in his eyes. She didn't want to do this, didn't want to be tender. Didn't want him to see through her like this. And most of all, she didn't want to care so much about his feelings.

"I did," she said slowly, and oh God, she was starting to cry. Was she crying for herself or for him? "I did what I had to."

"So you had to lie about me, eh, Slayer? Had to pretend for a little while that it was all sunshine and roses?" He was fuming now, with that dangerous edge to his voice. She hated it. She hated him, suddenly, all over again, more fervently than she ever had when they were enemies. Because this time, she actually cared. "Couldn't accept for one _bleeding_ second that I could have changed on my own, that I could do something better than that wanker ever could?"

"You haven't changed at all," Buffy found herself hissing, and she sprung away from him like he was going to bite her. Ha. Maybe if he hadn't had a leash holding him back he would have. He looked angry enough, almost feral. She felt the same. "I was right before. You're not moral, Spike. You can't be good without a soul."

"Maybe not," he said, setting his jaw and staring into her eyes. The look he got when he was being deliberately hurtful. She remembered it well. "But I was good enough for you, wasn't I? Good enough to save your life. Good enough that ten minutes ago you were just dying to jump into bed with me, wrap those skinny little legs – "

She wasn't sure if she was going to burst into full-fledged tears or actually stake him if he said another word. She just knew she couldn't take another second.

"Stop!" she said, nearly gasping the words out. It _hurt_, more than she had ever expected it to, and some of it was on Spike's behalf. This was wrong, and she didn't know who was more to blame. The worst part was that even now, as he breathed useless, angry pants and glared at her with those burning eyes, she still wanted him. Some part of her was screaming louder than ever for his touch and his kiss, and her disgust with herself almost outweighed her hatred.

"Just stop, Spike," she said, more quietly, as she tried to push those wayward thoughts from her mind. "I can't do this right now. I just can't."

Some of the fire in his eyes faded and the tension in his jaw slackened. "Buffy," he pleaded. "Don't do this."

Neither one of them seemed to know exactly what he was asking for. His expression was too much – like a lost little boy. Everything was just too much and the room was too small for her pounding heart. Buffy crossed to the door, hands shaking.

"I'll see you in the morning, Spike," she said, and walked away. He didn't try to stop her, or if he did she didn't hear his weak protests in the midst of her own cacophony.

She didn't have the heart to slam the door. The anger, pain, and hatred were melting into something she couldn't quite name, a sort of mix between longing and grief. Buffy leaned against her bedroom door, wishing she could still hear him breathing. She needed some sort of confirmation that he was still there, that this hadn't broken whatever they had.

Then, slowly, she turned and walked to her mom's room. There was still a dull rush of pain when she opened the door, confronted by all the familiar belongings. She collapsed on the bed, refusing to cry anymore.

_But what else can I do?_

It wasn't even about the Slayer/vampire thing at this point. Well, maybe it was, a little bit, but that conflict was mostly unconflicted by now. That was so 1998. There was the soul issue, of course, which was obviously problematic for a million reasons. The worst, thought, was just thinking maybe this was them. Buffy and Spike – William, even. Something in their beings that resisted each other.

She rolled over. _If we could just resist each other completely, my life would be so much easier_, she thought. Less interesting, maybe. But easier. She'd have a nice, normal boyfriend, perhaps – not a vampire, not even a monster hunter. Just a boyfriend.

Instead, she had these confusing feelings for a man (and a monster) who she couldn't even be sure was capable of real compassion, empathy, love. She had come to believe in his feelings for her, but that didn't prove his humanity. He had obsession, passion, caring, even self-sacrifice - for her. Perhaps Dawn as well, but they were made out of the same stuff (literally).

How could he even love her, when Angel (_Angelus_, she reminded herself) couldn't? Which one of them was flawed? Which one was wrong: the one who had, according to his nature, attempted to kill her and make her miserable as soon as he was set free; or, the one who defied all notions of what he should be, declared his love for her at every opportunity?

She didn't have to consider which one of the two vampires scared her more. Angelus she could take. She'd killed him before. That was an external threat. But Spike had wormed his way into her very being, and the thought of losing him – hurting him – was amazingly painful. Even as she burned up with hating him, wanting him, loathing him, loving him, she couldn't imagine losing him.

Yeah, this was pretty much the worst.

* * *

><p>Spike hadn't felt this rough since Dru had left him that last time, when he knew it was really over. Sure, he'd been brassed off and miserable when the Slayer had rejected him, but he'd been all self-righteous about that incident. Lying in the dark, he wasn't at all sure this wasn't his fault.<p>

_Why do I care so damn much, anyway?_ He thought bitterly. Not like they had some bright, gleaming future. Not like she could ever care about a monster like him. Not like he'd ever had a chance in hell with her. A chance in her bed, dark corners, alleyways, and moonlight? Yeah, maybe. But not a chance by her side, holding her hand, facing the world.

He'd wanted crumbs, but not like this. He didn't want her to give him things that would make her as miserable as he was. If she wanted to keep him her dirty little secret, fine. Not like he gave a damn about what the Scoobies thought.

This was more than that, though. She wanted to turn him into sodding Angel 2.0 is what it was. Strip away Spike, strip away William, strip away the little boy at his mum's skirts and the hardened killer all in one and leave – what? Buffy wanted his danger, but rejected his demon; she wanted his tenderness, but refused his love.

He didn't have anything left to give. Nothing that she'd want.

And the worst of it was, maybe she was right. Maybe he was nothing without a soul. He'd always been a screw-up, a fool, a moron. Following his heart, and sometimes another organ that wasn't his brain. Wasn't much bad at evil, wasn't cut out for it. Even after Angelus broke him, he still had pity sometimes, and mercy. Still loved Dru more than words could say. Would've died for her. Nearly did.

Then he fell in love with the Slayer and that really bollixed things up for him. He tried to be good, and wasn't much good at that either. Too selfish, too caught up in her to remember the periphery. He'd stopped practicing compassion except when it suited him, and it was a hard habit to pick back up.

What was left for him? Didn't know any gypsies to piss off for her, and besides, that whole no-banging clause wasn't his cup of tea. Could try continuing to change, being a little better bit by bit until she could accept him, love him. Might take years. Long enough that she'd find some other moron who was utterly dedicated to her and settle down. Humans were hasty like that. By-product of the short lifespan, he supposed.

To hell with it. He wasn't going to lie here in her bed, fretting about their so-called relationship that resulted to nothing more than a few pity kisses. If she wanted him, she could come over herself and find him.

Buffy still thought he was a monster, that was easy enough to read from between the lines. Well, he might as well act like one. There was no point sticking around waiting for the Slayer's worldview to do a 180. He couldn't prove to her he was worthy (which he didn't really believe, so good luck convincing her of that). Leastaways, he couldn't do any of it tonight.

As tempting as the thought was, Spike wasn't going to burn her house down. He wouldn't even leave a note. If she really cared, if she could still value him for what he was, she could spit out her bloody pride and come over. Not like she didn't know where he lived.

And as for the Bit, Buffy was tough enough to take on the baddies by herself. He'd keep an eye out, of course. But remembering her eyes when she said those words – he couldn't just stay here and pretend like it didn't affect him. Maybe she was right and he was a monster. Maybe this wasn't love. But if not, it sure hurt a hell of a lot for "passion" or "obsession" or whatever rot the Scoobies wanted to call it. He nearly died for her, and would gladly risk it again.

Just not tonight. Not until he could at least halfway figure himself out, and her out, without wanting to get into a riproaring tussle that would give him the migraine of the year. Maybe if they could still fight each other they'd get along better, he mused vaguely.

She didn't want him, and sticking around was just going to make things worse for both of them – he was clearheaded enough to know that, at least. He knew he couldn't stay away from her, and if she was going to come all seductive-like to his bed (well, her bed, but he was in it), he might not have the same self-control as before. Part of him didn't mind the idea. Sure, it wasn't love, but it'd at least ease some of the tension he had regarding her.

That is, if Buffy didn't stake him the next morning. No, he didn't have much pride, but he wasn't going to stay here tonight to be the man she wanted him to be. Spike was sick of playing Angel.

He slipped out of the window like he knew she'd done a thousand times. He'd seen her do it, back when he would wait out by that tree and smoke and watch her. Watch out for her, he called it.

Maybe he would have been better off staying out there. The night wrapped itself around him easily, and he climbed onto the tree with little effort. Thanks to the amount of blood he'd consumed, the pain was only slightly mind-numbing as he dropped to the ground.

He stopped only to blow a single, somber kiss to the window. If he was lucky, she'd miss him in the morning. If not, well, Spike was used to being alone by now. He wrapped his arms around his cold body and walked away.


	8. Chapter 8

A Spark of Love

_Chapter Eight_

* * *

><p><em>Previously: <em>Buffy tells Dawn that things with Spike are "complicated". In the middle of an encounter, Spike asks her if she told the Scoobies that there was something going on between them. She reveals that she lied to Angel and told him that Spike had a soul. They have a fight, and Spike leaves the Summers' house.

* * *

><p>Buffy was aware, vaguely, of Spike's cool breath tickling her neck. A shiver crept its way deliciously down her spine as she moved closer to consciousness. His fingers ghosted over her arms, barely touching her flesh and raising goose bumps everywhere they went.<p>

"Shh, love," he murmured, low voice going right through her. "It's not morning yet."

"Mm. But you're here."

"I am."

It was like all of the things that had been troubling her had dissipated somehow, in the not-quite-light of daybreak. Buffy took a quick breath, suddenly ready to face her feelings.

_Nothing scary here_, she thought. _Just a couple of killers ready to make with the loving_.

Unable to resist any longer, she rolled over to look at him, already anticipating the gleam in his blue eyes. Her hands automatically reached out to stroke his hair and tug at his shirt.

"Mm," she murmured, barely aware of her own words as they passed through her lips. "I love you."

There was no response. Heart pounding, she opened her eyes (had they really been shut?).

The bed was empty. She was awake. Still, she reached out her hand to where dream Spike had been, resting it on the lonely pillow.

Cheers to the freakin' weekend.

Maybe if she had been an ordinary human, minus the whole enhanced-superhearing thing, she would have expected to find Spike that morning. It was interesting, him being gone. Running off wasn't usually his trademark; he was more the always present even when unwanted type. But she'd heard the window slide open in the night. She was born to hear the noises vampires made under the cover of darkness. Of course she knew he was gone.

It was sort of funny how that didn't make getting up any easier. There was sort of a dull ache in her chest, a mix between anger, guilt, and resignation. The ever-present bright sunlight fell over the bed, like it was mocking her. He couldn't be there with her, no matter how much she had realized she wanted him to. This wasn't his world.

The fleeting thought that scared her the most was that maybe it wasn't hers, either.

There was something a little comforting about the whole thing, she reflected as she walked into the hallway. She was used to this sort of game, the give-and-take, two-steps-forward-one-back (_or was it the other way around? That saying always confused me)_ dance. It was kinda disappointing, sure, but it wasn't anything new.

Buffy hadn't been thinking ahead enough to put clothes for the next day in Joyce's room. She didn't bother with the pretense of knocking on her own door. What was the point? It wasn't like Spike was going to be sitting on her bed, looking up at her with those soulful blue eyes and sighing her name.

Except he totally was there, and he totally was doing all of those things. She froze, unable to do anything but stare at him with an ever-increasing sense of shock.

She'd pictured this situation twenty different ways the night before, but in exactly none of her daydreams had Spike's face been streaked with tears. His hands also hadn't been shaking, and there hadn't been suspicious red stains on his shirt and arms. Basically, other than his presence, everything was completely wrong.

Buffy didn't realize she was moving until she was almost upon him. She snatched his trembling hands into her own. "Tell me what happened," she instructed.

She wasn't being tender at all. She wasn't being lovey-dovey Buffy (although the thought had crossed the mind for like half a second before it registered that crying Spike equaled very bad). She wasn't even being a friend. This was full, no-nonsense Slayer mode.

He hesitated, like he was going to resist and pull away. But she knew him. Why would he come here if he wasn't going to tell her what was up? "It's Dru," Spike said slowly, barely managing the words. "She's…gone. Dust."

_Oh_. That hadn't been what she'd expected at all. It had been a really long time since Buffy had even thought of the crazy vampire, but now that she was thinking of her…well, she couldn't say that she was upset that the murderous ex-lover of her current whatever-he-was happened to be gone from this world. Still, her death had obviously affected Spike. He looked rough, almost like he had when Dru had left him, and he'd clearly been in a fight or two.

Carefully, Buffy asked, "How do you know?"

Maybe she didn't really want an answer to that question. Might be some freaky vampire sixth sense, some sort of sire-bond thing that would be inevitably squicky. Not to mention she got some pangs of jealousy just thinking about it, which was a million shades of wrong. She quashed that thought and focused her attention on Spike.

His next words were even more unexpected than the initial revelation. "Angel told me."

* * *

><p>He could see the shock in her eyes. Well, why wouldn't she be surprised? Wasn't like he and the Poof were regular mates or anything. They'd been in a good habit of hating each other the last eighty-odd years and he wasn't about to change that now.<p>

Buffy sat down on the bed next to him, hands still linked with his. "Last night," he elaborated, trying to dispel the last few tremors of tears. "I was pretty pissed."

"Which I got from the whole leaving thing," Buffy said, looking away.

"I mean drunk. I was angry, too, of course. Thus the drinking."

"Oh."

Something in her voice raised some ancient instinct, but he shoved it back. Didn't matter what his demon wanted with her – or his human body, for that matter. It was important that she knew this, although why that was he wasn't quite sure.

"So I called Angel. You know, misery, company, all that, I s'pose. I was still sore over what you told him and I guess I wanted to rub it in his face that I didn't have a soul and that you still…" He trailed off, suddenly very sure that he didn't want to finish that sentence.

"That I still what?" Buffy pressed, fire flashing in her eyes. "Let you in my bed?"

"Something like that," he said, feeling a little ashamed but not a bit guilty. "Save the lecture for later, all right?"

Spike must have looked awfully pathetic, because she only pursed her lips and nodded, like she was encouraging him to continue. The small, rational part of his brain still alive filed that little bit away for later. _Tears work well on the Slayer_.

"Anyway," he continued, "I called Angel, ready to make him as brassed off as I was and he picks up the phone all serious. Still hates me, I imagine, but now that he thinks I'm in his little soul club he was right keen to catch me up. Seems that it happened a while back – around the time that I – we – well, I think you know. When I told you how I feel."

There was sympathy in her eyes, sure, but she didn't seem to understand. He'd been so sure she would. A flood of disappointment wracked him.

"I guess it hit me so bloody hard because I feel like it's my fault somehow, yeah? Like I betrayed her. Wouldn't have happened if I'd been with her."

He felt the truth of his words all over again as he said them. God, it hurt. That wasn't the worst part, though. He wasn't ready to think about that yet.

"She left you," Buffy said, obviously trying to be comforting. It was clear that she didn't see Dru's death as a great tragedy, though, and from her perspective he supposed that made sense. "It's not your fault you weren't with her."

"No. It's yours," he replied, more harshly than he meant to.

She frowned, obviously hurt, and withdrew her hands from his.

He winced. "Shit, Buffy, I didn't mean it like that."

"Then how did you mean it?" she asked coldly, giving him that stare he hated. Spike heaved a dramatic sigh.

"I never told you why Dru left me."

"So tell me."

She'd crossed her arms now, totally withdrawing that delicious warmth from him. He took another deep breath. "She left me because she knew that I was in love with you, way back then. She saw it in one of her bleedin' visions."

"That's not my fault," she said stubbornly, fixing that stare on the wall next to him. He didn't envy it.

"Yeah," he agreed, tempering his voice with sarcasm. "Nothing ever is."

Oh, there it was. Her eyes burned into his, and this was the kind of hatred he could get into. Buffy wasn't pretending to be detached any longer. "I didn't ask for you to be in love with me," she hissed. "I never would have asked for that."

"Right, and you also didn't ask to fall in love back," he said, before he realized what he was saying. Something in him encouraged him to cringe back, because the Slayer's rage at that would probably be feared for generations to come.

Instead, she seemed to calm to a sort of dull resignation. "Yeah," Buffy said softly. "I didn't."

The world very well could have stopped. Demons could have overrun everything. The oceans could have turned to chocolate milk. Everybody he knew could have died, or come back to life and died again. Spike wouldn't have noticed, because he was too busy gaping at Buffy. "Hold up a bloody second," he managed to get out. "Did you just – "

"I still hate you," she grumbled, but she was smiling a little in the corners of her eyes, like she had just let go of something painfully heavy. "I can't believe you tried to pin the blame for her death on me."

"You would've staked her if you'd had the chance," he pointed out.

She looked at him. He looked at her.

"Okay, yeah. That's totally true."

Like he'd cried too much to remain upset but he still had an overabundance of emotions, he felt a sudden urge to laugh. "This is so bloody stupid," he said, gasping a little bit with laughter. And just like that, he couldn't stop. He fell back on the bed, all abandon lost.

* * *

><p>Buffy looked at him blankly. <em>I never thought I would meet a vampire with more mood swings than me when I'm PMSing<em>, she thought wryly. But something about Spike laughing, with his eyes all crinkled up, was just irresistible. Besides, he had been so upset, so broken. He probably needed this. She needed this. Whatever this was, she knew that it was somehow necessary. She started laughing, too, feeling free for the first time since she'd kissed him months ago. She lowered herself down onto the bed too, to meet his eyes.

Telling him she loved him, even in a roundabout way – it felt a little liberating, a little daring. In an hour, she'd probably regret it, when he said or did something else to remind her that he was a hundred-year-old serial killer, but right now, when he was all happy-laughing – how could she imagine not loving him?

So what if they couldn't be together! What the hell, anyway, the odds were seriously out of her favor that she'd even live through the week at this rate. A long-forgotten memory bubbled to the surface – her first night at the Bronze. She remembered telling Willow to seize the day. _"Because tomorrow, you might be dead_."

Spike's shining eyes melted into hers.

"We've got a lot of movies," she said abruptly. "And I'm kind of craptastic at research anyway."

It seemed to take a second for her words to sink through the bleach and make their way to Spike's brain. He blinked those pretty lashes at her. "You askin' me on a date, Slayer?"

"Is it really a date if we don't go anywhere?" she asked rhetorically. Her stomach was doing the squirmy thing again, but this time it was considerably more pleasant. She rolled over to face him better. "There's no popcorn, though. Dawn ate it all, after she covered it in gross stuff."

"Like what?" he asked curiously.

"Chili powder and cinnamon. Blech."

"That sounds tasty," Spike murmured, and she wasn't sure whether or not he was joking. Knowing him, he probably meant it. _Ugh, vampires and their weird taste buds. _Come to think of it, maybe that was why Dawn and Spike seemed to enjoy each other's company so much. Dawn. It was morning.

She sat up. "I came in here to get dressed."

"I don't mind, pet," the vampire, still reclining, purred. _How does he go from depressed to horny in twenty seconds flat? _she wondered as she threw a pillow at him.

"You should clean up, too," she said, wrinkling her nose. "You bleed an awful lot for a dead guy, you know."

Spike regarded himself like he hadn't noticed the sexy wounds before that moment. "I s'pose you're right. I was so caught up after I…heard the news, I think I went on a rampage. Headed over to Willy's and picked a couple fights. Guess I did you a favor, though."

"I'd rather be the one to kick the crap out of you, but thanks for the thought," she joked, pulling a top and jeans out of her closet "Turn around."

He obeyed, grumbling a little bit about being around for a hundred years, and her delicate modesty something something something. "I don't have anything else to wear, sweet," he said after they both turned around again. "Don't want to bloody up all your things again."

Buffy rolled her eyes. Life had been a lot easier before all of her boyfriends ended up in constant combat situations. Of course, that had been before she was Called herself, back before she became a complete freak magnet. Those days seemed so long ago, it was like they'd happened to another person. "Take your shirt off," she ordered.

Spike raised his eyebrows, and his face shifted into that stupid dirty expression that made her stomach do _things_. Flippy things that weren't entirely unpleasant, actually. "Ooh," he said in a low tone, "I like where this is going."

She felt the blood rush to her cheeks, but did her best to ignore it. "Let your mind crawl out of the gutter it lives in for half a second. I need to clean you up."

Buffy slid her military-grade first aid kit out from under the bed (at least Riley had been good for _something_) and began to clean and bandage his wounds. He'd re-opened some of the deeper cuts from Glory's torture, but most of the new damage was fairly shallow. The shirt was long past saving, though, and he tossed it over her head into the trash.

"All done," she said softly, wondering a little to herself when he'd last been taken care of. Drusilla hadn't really seemed lucid enough to patch him up, Darla'd been a Class-A bitch, and Angelus…well, she had enough first-hand experience with that particular unpleasant taste that she knew better than to even imagine him caring about anybody.

She knew he didn't really deserve it, but her heart still swelled a bit and she leaned forward to give him a chaste kiss on his forehead. Her lips lingered over his cool skin long enough for him to nibble gently on her jawbone.

Buffy closed her eyes, savoring the feeling. A bandaged hand reached up to stroke the side of her face, and Spike moved to focus his attention on kissing her neck.

Pleasure surged through her, tickling her flesh and curling her toes. She leaned into his touch further, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. _Mm, those back muscles_…

This situation was rapidly spiraling out of control. "Movies," she gasped, jerking away from him. He looked at her, eyes heavily lidded.

"Can watch movies anytime, love," he protested, dipping his head towards her again.

Buffy pushed him away, a little more forcefully than she meant to. "Movies," she said, more firmly. "I want to do something _normal_."

"This isn't normal? Pet, I've been around a long time. Nothing more natural than to be kissing the person you…care about."

She was glad he hadn't broached the L-word again. It was okay to talk around it, but she wasn't ready to really say it yet.

She might never be.

"It is when that person is undead. Come on." She stood, taking his hand and tugging him along. "We don't want to keep Sandra Bullock waiting."

An hour into _Miss Congeniality_, Dawn stumbled her way drowsily down the stairs. She smiled brightly at the sight of Buffy and Spike all comfy-cozy on the couch, but – _thank God_ – she didn't say anything about the vampire's state of semi-undress. Instead, she fixed herself a big bowl of cereal and took the end spot on the couch.

Buffy had a strange feeling of warmth like she hadn't felt since Mom. She felt so at ease that she almost would have fallen asleep, except that, cheesy as it was, she didn't want to miss a thing. She wanted to savor every second of Dawn criticizing plot holes and blushing at innuendoes and of Spike complaining about the characters' choices like they could hear him.

This was home.

* * *

><p>In some ways, this was better than the original plan of shaggin' the Slayer silly. In other, obvious ways, it wasn't, but there was something to be said for this feeling of belonging. To see the Bit healthy, whole, and happy – in part thanks to him – almost made up for the hell he'd had in the night. Not so much for the hell he'd caused, though.<p>

The credits rolled. Buffy got up and replaced the movie.

The worst was, Spike didn't know what would make Buffy think him more of a monster. Was it worse to wish that Dru could have unlived, to feed on more unlucky humans? After all, he'd loved her for over a century. Would it be more heartless to not care about her making it, or about her victims? Either way, he didn't really care about the humans stupid enough to stumble into her path. He'd been one, once.

Buffy settled back next to him.

Before, he'd have been willing to massacre any fleshy thing to lay it at her feet. He wasn't sure that if she'd wanted him back he would have been willing to kill for her anymore. Yeah, he loved Buffy now, but he'd always love Drusilla, past her death and his. If she'd shown up on his doorstep needing help, he wouldn't have turned her away. But killing humans, even with the chip – all he could think of was how Buffy would look at him in disappointment (right before she staked him).

He still wasn't sorry for all the people he had killed, especially those he'd slaughtered to keep Dru alive. Was that better? If he could have, he would have helped her stay around to kill some more. He had a feeling, as shaky as his moral compass was, that Buffy would think that complacency was just as bad as feeding her fresh victims.

His train of thought was derailed by the phone ringing. The Bit leaped up, all twitterpated. "I'll get it!" she said, rushing to the kitchen.

"Must be the infamous Tyler," Buffy commented, smiling a little. "Not even the looming apocalypse can stand between teenagers and other cute teenagers, I guess."

"You guess?" he echoed, in a teasing tone. "Not too long ago, you were one yourself. 'Course, I suppose you had to grow up faster than most."

"You can say that again." She rested her head against his bare shoulder.

Before he could reply, there was a knock at the door. "Ever so popular," he remarked as Buffy stood up to get it. Stretching for the remote, Spike paused the movie right as Mandy Moore was about to say something certain to pull on the audience's heartstrings.

"You stay," she instructed, those eyes glittering. She would be the death of him for damn sure.

He raised his eyebrows and flicked his tongue over his lips in a deliberately provocative expression that he'd spent decades perfecting. "If I behave, will I get a treat?"

"Maybe if you're _really_ good." Buffy opened the door. "Hey, Giles," she greeted, and even though he couldn't see her face he could hear the tension in her voice. Evidently, she hadn't made nice with the Watcher quite yet.

"Buffy, I was, er, a little concerned about you. I know that you didn't specify your plans for today, but with Glory feeling more proactive I assumed that you would come by – " He stopped short as he entered the living room. His eyes took in first Spike's half-naked form, and then emotionally compromised Mandy Moore on the television screen, and finally Spike again.

"Rupert," Spike greeted casually, reclining farther back and enjoying the tension a bit. If he couldn't be the mass-murdering kind of bad boy, he could at least be the parents-don't-approve variety. Getting under the Watcher's skin was always a guaranteed good time.

Giles cleared his throat, clearly perturbed, and turned to Buffy. "Buffy, I need to speak to you. _Alone_."

She sighed and gave a pointed look to Spike. _I see how it is. Still the bleedin' lapdog, am I? Sent away at your command._

Looking Giles straight in the eye, he swaggered away, still fuming internally. Not like he couldn't hear what they'd say – he was a vamp, after all. Stomping up the stairs, he nearly collided with Dawn, who came whipping round the corner like she was hyped up on whatever drug teenagers were doing nowadays.

"Sorry, love," he muttered, moving aside to let her pass by. Instead, she gave him a quizzical look, the kind that could burn right through a man's being and see through to his soul. Well, if he had one. She definitely took after big sis in that way.

"Watcher's here," he explained.

She crossed her arms. "Ugh, great. Here to interrupt the movie fun times. Is Buffy getting rid of him?"

Spike shrugged.

"I will, then," she said, with the determination of a woman twice her age. "She never gets any time off, and besides, I'm way safer here with the two of you than I would be anywhere else, right?" Dawn handed him the phone. "Will you put that away for me?" she asked, already walking down the stairs.

"Er, sure," he said, more to himself than to the out-of-sight teenager. Honestly, he had no idea where the bleedin' thing went. Most of the times he'd been in the Summers' residence he'd either been stalking around or injured, and who would he call when the only two people who gave a rat's arse about him lived right here? His brow furrowed as he tried to remember. Seemed like it belonged in the kitchen…

And at that, it started ringing, just as Spike's ears picked up the sounds of the front door closing. "Bloody hell." _Not another interruption_. Scanning his eyes quickly over the device, he found the button to silence the ring and hit it.

He wasn't a big fan of quiet himself, but the end of the Watcher's jabbering was definitely of the good.

Had he actually just thought that? God, he loved the girl, but he didn't want to pick up her silly California speech habits. They were barely decipherable into English anyway, and the last thing he needed was one more sign of being inducted into the Slayerettes. He rolled his eyes and started back down the stairs.

Buffy met him in the kitchen, her eyes immediately fixing on the phone in his hand. "I thought I heard the phone ringing," she said. Was that suspicion in her voice?

Well, what she didn't know wouldn't hurt her. "Telemarketer," he said easily, passing the phone back to her. She hung it up on the wall. "What'd the Watcher want? You to go out hunting for Glory in broad daylight? Lock the Niblet in a box till the hellgod dies of natural causes? Me deported?"

"All of the above," she said dryly. "Mostly, though, I think he just wanted to make sure we were all okay."

She looked guiltily up at him, like she'd said something she didn't mean. Spike sighed. "Yeah, not all. I know the Watcher would probably sleep better at night if I were a pile of dust."

"He doesn't hate you."

The sincerity in her eyes was painful. Made him want to punch someone. Preferably old Rupes, but he wasn't picky.

"Yeah? I'd hate to see how he'd treat me if he did, then." Spike turned around to head back to the living room, clenching his fists.

* * *

><p><em>Welcome to my life, where things can never be normal and the rules all suck<em>, she thought, not above a little bitterness. "If he hated you, you'd be dead. You know that," she said shortly, following close behind him.

Spike looked at her, and the emotion in his eyes took her aback. Literally, she took a step back and almost fell. She was expecting anger, but instead he looked almost on the verge of tears. _He really is an emotional wreck right now, huh. Normally he doesn't want to let me see him cry_. "No. I'd be dead if he thought you didn't have a use for me," he said sharply, only the slight shakiness in his voice betraying his anger. "I'm just a tool for this war, and if you think that I'll ever be able to fit in with the Scoobies, you're wrong."

Buffy tried to choke back her anger and her argument, remembering how she'd felt that morning. What if she pissed him off again and he left, never to return? Well, he didn't have the patience for that, and he was too devoted to her, but he could easily get himself killed. He was a good fighter, but if he came up against a human he'd be toast. Crumbs of toast, actually. Little dusty bits of what was once this infuriating man (_not a man_, she reminded herself) in front of her.

Remembering her mom's age-old advice, she took a deep breath before she opened her mouth to speak again. "Spike," she said gently, setting her hand on his arm. "We're not going to fight about this right now. When Glory strikes – and she will – it could be the hardest battle either one of us have faced. So let's watch some damn chick flicks."

He looked at her for a long minute, like he was trying to memorize everything about her. "Well, all right, then."

Before leaving the kitchen, Buffy grabbed a box of old (but not out-of-date) cookies. She hadn't been grocery shopping in a long time, thanks to all the extra insanity topping on top of the run-of-the-mill life craziness, but at least she still had cookies.

Of course, her vampire boyfriend who didn't even need human sustenance still insisted on stealing half of them.

Dawn insisted on watching _10 Things I Hate About You_ next ("I mean, Heath Ledger" being her entire argument). Buffy found all of Spike's side comments about Shakespeare and the unpleasant (even to vampires) taste of live duck to be strangely endearing. Even more endearing, if slightly uncomfortable, was how he fell asleep on her shoulder halfway through.

Buffy even found herself drifting off until the poetry scene near the end, when Dawn started nudging her awake. "Come on, this is the best part!"

Spike had already woken up by himself, and he was watching the scene with a small, mysterious smile. "You're more of a girl than I am," she informed him under her breath.

Not taking his eyes off the screen, he waggled his eyebrows at her suggestively. "Not where it counts, love," he said quietly.

She elbowed him. He groaned in real pain.

_Fantastic, now I've reopened his wounds again_. "Sorry," she whispered.

"'Sokay. Kind of hurts in the good way."

"Will you two stop being gross and watch the movie?" Dawn asked loudly, with fake irritation.

Buffy pretended to consider this. "Hmm, no, I think grossing you out is more fun."

Dawn's eye roll was almost audible.

As soon as the onscreen characters started kissing, Buffy began to wonder if they could pick up where they left off that morning. She sneaked a glance at Spike, who was already looking at her. "Later?" she began to mouth, but then she paused. It sounded like someone was driving up to the house.

There was a loud, frantic knock at the door. Before she could even get up to answer it, she heard whoever-it-was try the door and come in.

She ran into the next room to see a very bedraggled Xander, eyes wide. "Buffy," he panted. "It's Willow."

Spike and Dawn had followed her in, and it was a testament to Xander's stress levels that he didn't even register Spike's shirtlessness or Dawn's double handful of cookies. "What happened?" Buffy asked, already formulating a mission plan. Send Spike back through the tunnels to the crypt, take Dawn. Grab weapons bag. Go alone.

Nobody else was going to get hurt over this.

"Glory mindsucked Tara. Willow tried to stop her, but she didn't get there fast enough. I tried to call you, but nobody picked up, and I couldn't even find Giles at first. So I took her to the hospital and, uh, Anya decided to stay with Willow while I went to find Giles. He seemed pretty mad and said that we didn't need to disturb you, and that we could handle it, but when we got back to the hospital Anya was knocked out and Willow was gone."

An impressive number of swear words flew through her mind, including some that she'd heard from Spike and didn't even really know the meaning of. "Did Willow say anything before you left?" she asked urgently.

"She was talking out of her head, kind of, like she was going to go after Glory herself." Xander's expression was desperate. "Buffy, you have to stop her. I don't want to lose my best friend."

She set her jaw. "You won't."


	9. Chapter 9

A Spark of Love

_Chapter Nine_

* * *

><p><em>Previously: <em>Spike calls Angel while drunk and finds out the truth about Drusilla. Buffy admits to Spike in a roundabout way that she's in love with him. Tired of the constant interruptions to their "date", Spike ignores a phone call, which turns out to have been about Tara. Xander arrives to tell them what happened.

* * *

><p>Buffy really wanted to be able to be angry, to just stew in her feelings like a less-red Buffy tomato. Unfortunately, she was the Slayer, which meant she had to be the one being all battle-plan-having instead of petty.<p>

Her mind had rewound pretty damn quick to Xander's off-the-cuff mention of the phone going unanswered. She might not have made the greatest grades in college algebra last year, but she could put two and two together. And, as usual, the sum came up to be Spike's fault.

"Okay, Glory knows where we live, and if Willow's still there we can't risk her sending her gross little minions after Dawn. So the three of you can grab supplies – weapons, food, whatever you might need – and take the tunnels to Spike's crypt. As far as we know, they've never followed us there."

"I'll get the weapons," Dawn said, quietly but with a surprising authority. Buffy spared her a quick glance as she left the room. Sometimes it was hard to believe that she was the same teenager squealing over some pimply boy calling her not two hours before. There were more and more of these moments lately, and she was starting to suspect that this new grown up Dawn was becoming the norm.

Xander finally seemed to register Spike's presence. He eyed Buffy and Spike cautiously, like they were going to explode or start going at it right in front of him. "Well, I guess I'll be Snack Boy," he said awkwardly, heading for the kitchen.

She could sense Spike's gaze on her, but she didn't want to look at him. Looking at him got her nothing but trouble, she thought bitterly. He was like some kind of weird human-shaped drug; whenever she was around him, she forgot everything else, and look where it got her.

"Like hell I'm going with Dawn and the boy," Spike murmured, quietly but forcefully. Almost against her will, her eyes drifted up to his. The stormy blue was drilling right into her. She hated him for it. "I'm backing you up, you're not going in alone."

"No." She sounded a little less sure of herself than she wanted to.

He made a scoffing noise. "Not the time to be noble, pet. I know you can handle yourself, but that bitch could take us all down. You _need _me."

_No, I don't, and I never have, and I never will_ – that was what she wanted to say, for half a second. Instead, Buffy sighed. "Yeah. I do. I need you to take care of Dawn." She paused. "I mean, God, Spike, a telemarketer? You're not exactly scoring points in the me-trusting-you department."

"I didn't –"

She raised a hand. "I _so_ don't wanna hear it right now. We can talk about it later, assuming there is a later. I'm gonna grab my weapons and go. If – and I mean only if – I'm not back in an hour, then you can be all cavalry and come in as backup. Xander," she said, as he came back into the front, "I need you to call Giles before you go, tell him to bring Anya and Tara to the crypt, too. We can plan our next moves when I come back with Willow."

Not thinking was good, she decided as she readied herself. Not thinking meant not dwelling on details like the flecks in Spike's eyes or the down-turned curve of Dawn's lips. Not thinking meant not remembering the painful crack in Xander's voice when he thought about losing his oldest friend.

It was time to kick some hellgod ass, for like the second time this week. Well, it was spring, which was when her life always seemed to get harder.

She broke into a run. _And, as usual, I'd rather beat up my problems than talk about them_._ I can always talk later._

Buffy just hoped Willow would be conscious for that "later".

* * *

><p>The tunnels were dank and cold – not that it really mattered to him. Vampire and all, he could take it. Still, the warmth and coziness of Buffy's home touched some still-human bit of him.<p>

Just like Buffy herself could, and Dawn, and even Joyce (God rest her soul). And who could blame a vamp for wanting to extend that feeling and ignore any disturbances? The chit needed a bloody day off! He'd never realized before coming to Sunnydale what a crap job being a Slayer was. Not that he really would have cared, but…no money, no assurances, lots of wankers bossing you around, and absolutely no vacations. That was hell, right there, but Buffy bore it with a smile. Well, except the Council of Wankers, whom she'd rightfully kicked to the curb.

He glanced at the boy. Did he know how much the Slayer needed a break, how rough she had it? Maybe, yeah. Seemed to him the Scooby lot took her for granted, but the boy might would have stayed out of their hair if not for Red. And, as much as he hated it, Spike couldn't really blame him for that.

Bloody hell, he was growing sympathy toward all of them. Probably wouldn't much care if it was Xander getting blown up by the hellgod, but the Wiccas were good to him. And Anya was a right piece of work, in a good way.

The Watcher could go to hell after the way he'd treated Buffy today, though. Spike could give him a trip there no charge. The "This Is For Bothering Buffy" rate.

Dawn was walking ahead of them in silence. He didn't like it, but when he'd caught up to her a few minutes ago she'd given him a glare that could have combusted a lesser vampire. As it was, he fell back without protest. He could still sense something coming sooner than she would, anyway.

"I don't like you." Xander's voice cut through the silence.

Spike shot him a look. "Yeah, I think I might have picked up on that, mate," he said, infusing his voice with as much disdain as he could muster. It was a respectable amount, considering he'd come down off his little cloud-9-Buffy-world after she got brassed off at him for no good reason.

"Hold your horses, Deadboy, I wasn't finished," the boy replied, shaking his head. God, but he needed a haircut. Any longer and he'd look like Angelus before the soul. Briefly, Spike considered telling him that. "Like I was _going_ to say, I don't like you. In fact, I can't guarantee that I wouldn't dance on your grave. Not that you'd have one, because, you know, evil creature of the night and all. But I get that, for whatever gross reasons that I really don't wanna think about, Buffy cares about your well-being. So if you get the business end of a stake, I won't cry, but I won't be at the other end either."

His brow furrowed. "So," he said slowly, "you hate me but you won't try to kill me. Seems fair, especially since you know I haven't been able to kill you for years now."

"Yeah, but you would have if you could," the other countered.

Spike slipped out a pack of cigs and lit one, taking a long drag before he replied. "Nah, not likely. Would've pissed off Buffy."

He put a little smack of extra emphasis on her name, a little bit of added intimacy for show. Easier to deal with the boy when he was ready for a fight, that was territory he knew how to deal with. Still, wasn't like he really had to put on, just drop his defenses a little bit. Not like it was a secret anymore.

Xander didn't miss it, either, based on the look he gave back. "So you and Buffy really are…feel free to fill in the blank, because I can't finish that sentence without throwing up in my mouth a little bit."

"Yeah," he said shortly. Probably should feel bad for the boy, given the situation and all, but he was tired of all the bloody nattering. The occasional pang of sympathy was only putting him in a worse mood. "What of it?"

"Nothing," he shrugged. "Just the standard hurt-her-and-you-die-painfully speech. You've probably heard it already."

Involuntarily, he raised an eyebrow. "That's it?"

Their pace had slowed down and Dawn didn't seem to be waiting for them. Spike raised a hand to signal for the Bit to pause.

She looked right at him and ignored it. Typical.

"I mean, I still totally hate you and all, but you're kind of a handy guy to have around, I guess. In an apocalypse-type situation, you don't suck." Xander hesitated. "Pun completely intended."

Well. This was new. "Thanks, Harris," Spike said, strangely touched. Bloody hell, he was going soft.

Dawn's dulcet tones echoed through the tunnels. "If you two don't stop kissing, I'm gonna leave you behind!"

Spike and Xander rolled their eyes in not-quite-unison and headed down the tunnels.

* * *

><p>She wasn't a mystical-things expert, but even Buffy could feel waves of power prickling her skin as she entered the room. It wasn't a pleasant sensation – somewhere between having to sneeze and having the tiny hairs on her arms heated with a blow dryer. She rubbed her skin, caught up in the feeling, until her eyes locked on to something more important.<p>

Willow was _floating_. Magic crackled in the air around her. It was, to put it simply, beyond freaky. Like, miles beyond.

Unseen, Glory cackled maniacally.

"Why don't I ever have sane archenemies to kick the crap out of?" Buffy asked conversationally, sounding a lot calmer than she felt. Another chuckle and she spun around to face the hellgod.

"Oh my _me_," Glory said, eyes sparkling, "isn't this cute. Coming to rescue the little redhead from the big bad god, are we?"

Buffy chanced a glance at her best friend, who was still floating and looking like she was ready to star in an _Exorcist_ remake. Well, great. She dodged a punch from Glory just as Willow began to intone, "_Let those of evil freeze their step. I command thee!_"

The air seemed to shiver, and Glory screwed up her face. She trudged through the spell like it was molasses, or really anything syrupy. Buffy took advantage of the opportunity to smash a chair over the ex-god's head. That really pissed her off. Glory snarled – yeah, _snarled_ like she was a wild animal – and pushed through the remaining effects of the spell, landing a spectacular kick on Buffy's chest.

Conveniently, this catapulted her to Willow's immediate area. As she picked herself up, she said quietly, "Can you do anything else to incapacitate her? If I could get in a couple of good blows, we can get out of here."

"She needs to pay for what she's done," Willow replied, in a deep, dark voice that didn't sound like her. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up, like her inner Slayer was warning her.

Glory was launching herself at her now, though, and Buffy couldn't afford to be quiet. Between kicks, thrusts, and punches, she argued, "She will pay. But I can't take her like this, and I don't know how long you can keep this up."

Instead of replying, the witch began to murmur a little spell. Glory caught Buffy's fist mid-punch. "Could you _be_ more rude?" she demanded, in her best spoiled-rich-girl voice. Buffy had a sudden flashback to her first days at Sunnydale High and almost cracked a smile. "Talking about me like I'm not even there. You need to be taught a lesson, little _missy_. Learn some freakin' respect!"

"I don't respect evil god-wannabes," Buffy shot back, "especially not ones in last year's shoes."

Glory's jaw dropped. _Hey, two can channel Cordelia Chase_.

A snake writhed up from the carpet – Willow's doing, unless Glory had some serious pest control issues. The hellgod shook it off like it was no big. _Okay, more bravado needed. _"I could crush you just as easily," Glory bragged.

Buffy connected a few good hits as she replied, "Yeah, I guess those extra ten pounds must be good for _something_." Even as she was taking potshots at Glory's vanity, she was trying to send Secret Best Friend Brain Messages to Willow.

The power in the air was fading, which only made her heart pound faster. She couldn't let this stupid revenge quest take her closest friend. Buffy fought with renewed vigor, slamming anything she could find against the hellgod's petite form.

A voice sounded, and she knew it came from Willow even though it barely sounded like her. "_Let the earth take you back_."

Glory stumbled as the floor beneath her began to collapse. Vines and roots rose up, twisting themselves around her limbs. She sank into the dirt, struggling and swearing with words Buffy didn't recognize and didn't really want to understand.

The effort of the spell had knocked Willow unconscious. She rushed to her and heaved her over one shoulder "like a sack of potatoes", as Riley would have said. Then, with one quick glance at the shrieking Glory, she hightailed her way out of there.

"Buffy," Willow said, weakly but coherently, after a couple of minutes. So…not unconscious, but pretty close.

Okay, time to be Comfort Girl. "Everything's going to be okay," she said, in what she hoped was a soothing voice. "We're okay, and…Tara will be okay. And Glory will get what's coming to her."

"We were fighting," the other woman mumbled, and Buffy could feel her shaking.

It was probably a good thing that Willow couldn't see the "what the hell" look on her face just then. "Yeah, we were, but we're out of there now, okay? We're going back to the others."

"No. Me and Tara," she choked out. "We were fighting, and…I said _things_ and…what if she never knows I didn't mean them?"

Buffy's heart sank as it swelled with compassion for her friend. Her heart was really working overtime.

Slowly, she set her friend carefully down. They both sank to the grass. Part of her brain, the Slayer-mode general-type section, was screaming that they needed to get going, but the other part insisted that they could take a few minutes. "She knows, Willow," Buffy said sincerely.

The witch was full-on crying, her face scrunched up and her eyes red. "Oh, goddess, help," she prayed quietly. "I just – I wish I could turn back time or _something_. My-my magic is so…so damn useless. It couldn't save her fr-from…it can't show her that I love her more than…and I am so sorry, baby, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean those things. I'd do anything to…"

Her words were stifled into the fabric of Buffy's shirt as she embraced her friend. Willow cried without abandon, and even as Buffy comforted her, she was filled with new resolve. Glory wasn't going to ravage any more of their lives. Something had to be done, and, well, she was the general-type. It was time to come up with a plan.

* * *

><p>"Anybody got a plan?"<p>

Spike surveyed the room with a bit of a cynical eye. The Scoobies were useful, yeah, when they had Buffy to lead them, tell them what to do. Without her, they seemed like a lot of dead weight, and if they kept up this lambs-to-the-slaughter behavior, that "dead" would become more than metaphorical. The Watcher was smart, but he lacked the drive or battle skill of the Slayer. Anya was a clever bird as well, but better with small-scale matters. Red was missing in action, and clearly a loose cannon to boot. Dawn was a good kid, but she didn't know the mechanics of war – and he'd like to keep it that way. The boy…well, the less said there the better, and Glinda was literally off in la-la land. It was a sad state of affairs when the Big Bad was their best shot at stayin' alive.

The group looked as blank as he'd expected. He sighed. "Can't just wait forever for Slayer to return with Will in tow, can we? Now, personally, I favor charging in and giving that hellbitch a good arse-kicking, but if you think that lacks nuance I'm open to suggestions."

"I suggest," Giles said sharply, "that you cease this charade of being Buffy's lieutenant. You two may be…involved, but that does not give you the right to make decisions in her absence. We cannot afford to put another life in danger until we are more certain that it is necessary."

"This has nothing to do with me and the Slayer," Spike argued. "And bloody excuse me for trying to keep you lot alive. Look, the hiding out here plan was alright, as far as hiding out plans go, but Glory's beaten the Slayer before and that was without a vengeance-crazed Wicca in tow, so I'm not likin' the odds."

"I agree," said Anya suddenly, eyes gleaming thoughtfully. "I mean, Buffy is excellent as a super-powered human fighter, but Glory is a god. When I was a vengeance demon, we used to bet on Slayers' battles, and I wouldn't lay down anything on Buffy in this. On the other hand, I don't want Xander getting anywhere near it."

"He doesn't have to. You barricade the place, I go alone after Red and the Slayer. None of you lot like me much anyway, so it's no skin off your nose if I kick it." He shrugged. "All in favor?"

"Well, my nose would be skinned!" Dawn said strictly. "Look, I know you're dying to play the hero or whatever for Buffy, but you're the best fighter we've got here. We're all screwed without you."

"You're meltin' my undead heart, Niblet," he said, not entirely sarcastically. Did give him a nice feeling of warmth to think that the Bit would miss him. At least her affection was constant. "But we can't just sit around twiddlin' our fingers. Somebody's got to –"

But he stopped, hearing someone approaching. Actually, two someones. Spike tilted his head to listen better. "It's Buffy," he said, not realizing that he spoke aloud. "She's alright."

When she walked through that door, he could have sworn his heart was hammering, although it had been so long since it'd beat that he'd nearly forgotten the sensation. He sought her eyes eagerly, like a dying man finally setting his eyes on fresh water. She held his gaze as she entered, still authoritative even with the weak witch leaning on her arm.

The Scoobies were full of praises and questions, but the Slayer, woman that she was, silenced them all effortlessly with her look. This was a new Buffy, rarely seen. Gone was the scrappy fighter and the lone warrior. She was a goddamn commander.

Giles rose and helped Willow over to a makeshift seat next to Tara, who smiled brightly and clung to her hand.

Buffy was positively glowing with authority, if not cheerfulness. Her face was grim as she spoke. "We have to get out of here. Glory's not interested in the rest of Sunnydale, so they should be safe, but we have to go. Every one of you is in danger, and – and I'm not ready to risk that anymore, okay?"

Xander opened his mouth, but seemed to reconsider and closed it. Everyone else nodded solemnly, and the expression on the Bit's face made Spike feel sick. She didn't deserve to feel guilty over this. She didn't deserve any of this, and despite what she thought, she was as much of an innocent as everybody in this situation. And definitely more innocent than he was.

Not that he was repentant of his crimes, mind you, but he recognized that of those here, he was the most deserving of death. Maybe Anya would be in second – had to have some casualties in a millennium of vengeance, after all.

"I realized something else. Glory's focused her attacks on me up until now, people she saw me with, but she's also focusing on the ones that are alone. So I think everybody should pair up for the trip. Dawn and I will go last," she said, green eyes glinting with emotions he didn't want to see.

And Buffy, most of all, didn't deserve this.

She cleared her throat nervously as they continued to look expectantly at her. Poor shepherdess, leading a bloody ragtag group of sheep, he thought wryly. "I thought we'd go towards L.A. If we can make it there, Angel can help us, or at least give us shelter. Apparently, he has a hotel now."

Spike caught her eye again and made a face. For the first time since she came in the crypt, Buffy cracked a slight smile.

"Um…right, pairs," she said, coming back to herself. "Xander, Willow, you'll go first. Still have some magic left in you?"

The witch gave a double thumbs-up.

"We can take my car," Xander said reassuringly.

"Grr-reat," Buffy joked weakly. "Uh, Giles and Anya next. Spike, you can take Tara. Does anybody have any objections?"

"None, Your Honor," Dawn replied dryly, forcing a smile. "When do we get to take this fun road trip?"

"Nightfall."

When it seemed that everyone was wrapped up in other pursuits (although none of them had left his _crypt_ yet), Spike approached Buffy. "We were about to send out the bloody cavalry," he said quietly, smiling thinly.

"Sorry," she replied, eyes turning up in the corners. "Willow and I kind of had a crying sesh in the grass. It was…unexpected."

"The fight went okay?"

She shrugged. "I felt like an ant fighting a giant, but we survived. I guess that's what counts."

"Yeah," he agreed.

They fell silent, and he was about to either make up an excuse to get away or ask her point blank if she was still angry when she sighed loudly. "Oh, who am I kidding? This is ridiculous."

Before he could ask her what she meant, she was wrapping her arms around him. He savored her scent as her warm lips met his, worry and fear melting away into a Buffy-induced haze. Her kiss wasn't as hot and needy as it had been before, but it was more tender and passionate. He drank her in, pulling her as close as physics would allow. He could have died happy if she had sunk into his bloodstream then and there, or he into hers, so the distinction could cease to exist.

Oh bloody hell, there were the poetics again. He couldn't bring himself to care, though. Buffy's hot breath tickled his face as she pulled away, gasping for air.

* * *

><p>Part of her wanted to tell him that she couldn't promise anything even if they survived. Part of her wanted to remind him that she was still angry, and another part insisted that she could expect no better from a soulless creature. But another part kept remembering Willow's tears, and her silent resolution that she wouldn't face the same regret.<p>

"Sorry," she said, still breathless. "I kind of needed to do that."

Spike chuckled, a low sound that made thrills shock through her. She suddenly felt uncomfortably warm, and she wished that the rest of the gang hadn't been there. "Don't need to apologize, love," he murmured. "Of course, you might want to warn a bloke next time. If I'd needed breath, I might have passed out right in your arms."

"Well, that's why I personally prefer guys who don't have to breathe," she whispered back, feeling daring.

Telling things like that to Spike was like willingly standing near the edge of a cliff. It was stupid, possibly suicidally so, but it felt _amazing_. After all, she had already kinda-sorta admitted that she loved him, so what was the harm in hinting around it some more? She wanted him, and she suspected that she always would from now on. Whether they could be together might be a different matter, but that was a problem for Future Buffy (if she existed) to wrestle with. For now, she was going to make the most of the time they had.

"I thought finding out got me over the weirdness, but nope, seeing it is worse," Xander said quietly. Buffy knew he didn't mean to be heard, only by whoever he was speaking to – Willow, probably. It wasn't his fault that she had supersonic Slayer hearing. Spike, of the even-more-supersonic vampire hearing, raised an eyebrow as if to judge her reaction. She smiled, deciding to pretend not to have heard, but freed herself reluctantly from his embrace after one final, quick kiss.

Suddenly feeling her tiredness and verge-of-teariness, she made her way over to Xander and Willow. "The hotel is called the Hyperion." Ugh, her voice was even trembling. Could she be more Hallmark movie of the week? "And…be careful."

"The carefulest," Willow said reassuringly. "I'm more worried about Xander's driving than the impending Glory threat."

"Hey!" he said, mock-offended. "Just for that, I get to pick the road trip music."

Buffy hugged both of them. Goodbyes were exchanged all around (Anya even shed some tears and threatened to turn Xander into a toad if he was hurt), and her oldest friends left.

Next were Anya and Giles. Even as he glared disapprovingly at Spike, he offered her a tender embrace that she decided to accept as an apology. "The Hyperion," she said again. "And…don't antagonize Angel. Or Cordelia."

"Cordelia's there?" Anya asked, suddenly interested. "Hmm."

"No jealous crap," Buffy said, for her sake as much as Anya's.

To her surprise, the ex-demon pulled her into an enthusiastic hug. "Don't die, okay?" Anya said brightly.

"I'll do my best," Buffy replied, letting her go.

After Anya and Giles left, she looked at Spike. Dawn was sitting with Tara, braiding her hair tenderly.

_It would be so great if this could be it. Everything normal. Nobody dying, no imminent end of the world_. Her gaze turned wistful. _No trips to L.A…or strictly fun ones, anyway._

Catching her look, Spike said, "Walk us out, will you, love?"

"Where's the Desoto?"

"Out back, but I've got a bike to take." Misinterpreting her expression, he added, "Don't worry, Glinda has enough sense left in her to hang on. Not even as bad as Dru on her worst days, and even she had most of her self-preservation left."

"Why?" she asked, frowning. "Why not take the car?"

"I figured you'd be better off with something easy to maneuver, yeah? Seem to remember you mentioning a hatred of driving. Don't worry, it's clean."

"Oh," she said, oddly touched. "Okay."

They went outside together, the four of them. Tara giggled and tangled her fingers with Dawn's when she heard a distant siren. Buffy took Dawn's other hand, hoping to show all the strength she wasn't quite feeling. Spike stood behind her, in what was now a comforting gesture.

After a minute, Spike and Tara got onto the motorcycle. They had agreed that they should stagger the vehicles for safety, but Buffy still felt oddly lonely as they prepared to leave. Even the kisses she'd given him earlier seemed insufficient. She wanted to tell him…something. Something good enough to somehow make their separation okay. Something he could remember her by if they never saw each other again.

But she had nothing left to say. Dawn squeezed her hand.

They were still within sight when it happened. Like a crack of lightning, a sudden flash of energy appeared, stopping the motorcycle with what seemed to be a single hand.

"No," Buffy whispered, taking off at a run. Dawn was dragged along, and in her dreamlike haze Buffy could sense her trying to keep up.

They were almost to the scene when Dawn stumbled. Their hands broke apart – Buffy looked at her.

"Go on," she said, sitting on the pavement and looking like the small little girl she never was. "Save them."

Glory had Spike by the throat, holding him up above her head. She was shaking him and screaming. Buffy had the advantage, though, because she couldn't see her coming. She struck the back of Glory's head, and Spike took the opportunity to kick the hellgod, freeing himself.

Her mouth was open and she was about to deliver a snappy one-liner – something about keeping hands off or watching out – which was quickly forgotten when Tara let out a horrific scream. "The light!" she shrieked, crawling on her hands and knees away from Glory's crouched figure. Spike whipped around and began to run toward her. Buffy froze, paralyzed with dread.

"The light!" Tara repeated, in that same hysteric voice. "The morning light, it's – it's so beautiful. There! Look how it shines!"

Buffy realized suddenly that Spike wasn't running toward Tara, but Dawn, who was standing silhouetted in the moonlight. Glory gasped. "It's the sister!" she said with pleasure, just as Spike reached her. "I knew it!"


	10. Chapter 10

A Spark of Love

_Chapter Ten_

* * *

><p><em>Previously: <em>A vengeful Willow goes after Glory. Xander admits that he doesn't totally hate Spike. After a battle with Glory, Buffy decides that it's best for them to head to LA in small groups, but before Spike and Tara can leave, Glory shows up and finds out who the Key is.

* * *

><p>"It's the sister!" Glory said with pleasure. "I knew it!"<p>

Spike, still running, reached Dawn and effortlessly scooped her up, saying something to her that Buffy couldn't quite hear.

Buffy shook off the dread that had gripped her. So Glory knew. It was semi-inevitable. She hadn't _really _expected this plan to work, had she? Things never went that smoothly in her world.

Glory made a mad dash after the vampire, but Buffy, reacting quickly, tackled her to the ground. She suddenly flashed back to one of her first training sessions with Giles, where he'd reminded her for, like, the billionth time to look for an enemy's weakness. "Duh," she'd responded, "but thanks for the refresher course in Common Sense 101."

He'd heaved that heavy sigh and said, "I know it seems obvious, Buffy, but you may one day fight powerful evils without discernible weaknesses. But not even the greatest master vampire is without them."

Well, Glory could probably kick the butt of the greatest master vampire left standing, but she did have a weakness. Besides her fashion sense, of course, but that wasn't exactly a weakness that Buffy could exploit in combat. No, Glory wanted the Key so badly that she could forget everything else when trying to find it.

Good.

Glory shoved her off and climbed to her feet a little more slowly than usual. She scanned the horizon for Spike and Dawn.

"The light is gone," whimpered Tara, still curled up on the pavement.

Buffy watched in amazement as the ex-god stamped her foot and screamed. In a less crappy town, the police might have come to investigate the noise.

But this was Sunnydale, and she was the law.

"Okay, princess," Glory said, turning to her. "Let's get this over with. It should take like two seconds for me to wipe the floor with you." She lunged, but Buffy easily deflected her move. The hellgod stumbled.

Glory was off her game, for whatever reason. Buffy wasn't too worried about it. She didn't care about honor in this fight – if she were a muscly action hero dude, she'd probably be saying "this time, it's personal" right about now. "Sorry, mighty Snorificus, or whatever it is your pathetic minions call you." Buffy shrugged. "You're not going to lay a hand on my sister."

Glory's laugh was interrupted by a well-placed kick to her jaw. The other woman countered with a quick punch that sent Buffy flying. "She's not even your sister! Silly Slayer. Keys…are for gods. Like me. Not for humans to be putting their grimy little hands all over. You don't have a right to her. She's mine, and I'm gonna get her." She stalked over to Buffy as she said this, and moved to place her foot on Buffy's chest.

But she reacted faster, twisting her own legs around Glory's and knocking her to the ground. Buffy stood, unable to even feel the pain through the ridiculous amount of Slayer-enhanced adrenaline (or however that worked – she got a C in bio) pumping through her veins. As soon as Glory was up, Buffy was on her, landing a flurry of blows. She wasn't thinking strategy. Actually, she was barely thinking at all.

She'd forgotten how much _fun_ it was to run on pure reflex.

A low kick sent Glory sprawling. Buffy stood over her, watching. In a more thoughtful moment, she might have wondered if she had bought enough time for her to grab Tara and run. Right then, however, the only thought in her mind was: _I have to protect Dawn_.

She leaned over the ex-god. "What's that you were saying? Something about wiping the floor with me?"

Glory made a sound like a growl, but it extended higher, then lower, and then into a completely different noise. Her skin seemed to bubble, and to Buffy's amazement, she began to transform into Ben.

Huh…what?

Ben…Glory…

"Oh, sorry," she said awkwardly, stepping away from Ben. It was a little bit of a compromising position, her leaning over him like that, and she didn't want him to think she was leading him on.

He frowned and stood, brushing dirt off of his clothes. "It's okay. Uh…are you okay?"

"Yeah. I think so." She probably looked like a wreck, but whatever. This was one reason it never could have worked between the two of them. Ben was just too normal, he couldn't take stuff like that in stride.

"Is _she_ okay?" he asked, and she followed his gaze to Tara. She nodded. Noticing the attention, Tara stumbled to her feet and walked over, smiling brightly. She looked almost okay when she was happy, but Buffy could see the empty look in her eyes.

A roaring sound broke through the awkward silence. She must have been smiling as she saw the motorcycle approach, because Ben turned to her and asked, "Friend of yours?"

"Oh…yeah." Then, feeling braver (and like she wanted Ben to take the hint and get lost), she added brightly, "My boyfriend. We're, um, we're heading up to L.A. for the…weekend." Was it the weekend, still? She wasn't even sure anymore.

"Oh," he said, obviously taken aback. "Cool. I, uh…I'll see you."

"Yeah," she replied, smiling. "See you."

He was walking away when Spike pulled up. "Who's that?" he asked, dismounting. Tara's smile widened, and he quickly returned the favor.

Buffy glanced in Ben's direction. "Ben. He works at the hospital."

Spike tilted his head. "So where's the hellbitch?"

"We fought. And…I think I won," she said slowly, memories suddenly a little fuzzy. Probably the adrenaline. Or maybe she hit her head. "Then she…ran off. Not after you, though. Where's Dawn?"

* * *

><p>Spike did his best to look innocent, which would have been a hell of a lot easier if Buffy hadn't been giving him that skeptical look. "Safely on her way to the City of Angels, love, so don't worry. She's with a friend of mine."<p>

"Oh," Buffy said. She seemed to relax for a second, and then her eyes widened. "A friend of yours? A vampire?"

"What? No." He scoffed. "_Not_ a vampire."

She raised an eyebrow. _She'd be a terrific mum some day, making scary faces like that_. "All right, so he's a demon," he admitted grumpily. "But he's harmless to everything except hot wings. Do _not_ leave him alone with your hot wings."

From the look on her face, she thought he was joking. "Why not just call a cab, Spike?" she asked tiredly.

"Well, I didn't really want to leave a girl of Dawn's age alone on her way to L.A. at night. And…" he triumphantly produced a cell phone from his duster pocket. "Clem has my number, yeah?"

"You have a _phone_?" Buffy looked shocked, and perhaps a little jealous. _Yeah, that's right, pet._ "_How_?"

"Nicked it" would have been the honest answer, but somehow he doubted she'd be happy with that. "Won it in a poker game, fair and square."

She snatched it out of his hand. _Bloody hell, that chit will never stop surprising me_. "Just because you don't approve of gambling or what all doesn't give you the right to just take what you like off my person! That phone could be bloody useful and you're just…"

Buffy was completely ignoring him in favor of squinting at the numbers and dialing someone slowly. "Shh," was her only response.

Spike groaned, but quietly.

"Hi," she said softly into the phone. "It's me. Yeah. …Mmhmm, yeah. Anyway, you know how last time you said that if I needed anything…right. Well, call me the weather girl, because I'm cashing in that rain check. Or something. I'm not really sure what that means. …yeah, so I've got a few people coming to the hotel. We're kind of on the run, Dawn's in danger, it's a long story. Okay. Willow and Xander should be the first ones there. Great. …bye."

She hung up, and then she turned those green eyes onto him. He felt his breathing change, a human habit that hadn't kicked it yet.

"Well, I s'pose I'm driving," he managed to say. Bleeding hell, but she affected him. And with this unlife or death situation, he almost wished he cared a little less about her. Right distracting, she was, and he wasn't feeling real secure about her report of the hellgod just what, running away? She'd kicked all of their arses more than once.

Something didn't add up.

"Look at the fireflies!" Tara shouted suddenly, pointing up to the sky. Buffy looked uncomfortable; Spike just sighed and gave the witch a gentle pat on the back.

"Come along then, love," he said gently. At least the docs had given her something to calm her down, which was bound to make her a sight easier to deal with than Dru. Of course, her insanity being all magically induced and what not meant she would probably lack those moments of clarity. Which…might be a good thing, now that he thought of it. Dru's times of sanity were almost worse than the rest, and they never lasted.

As they climbed into the car, Spike felt Buffy's eyes on him from the backseat. _Guess that she must be thinking about last time, same as me_. He looked back and met her gaze. Her small smile nearly melted him. He was a bleeding vampire, but around her he seemed to turn into a damn marshmallow.

Not that he really minded.

Slyly, he slid a Ramones tape into the deck – his baby wasn't new enough to have a CD player, and he didn't have many to play on it, anyway. Glancing into the mirror, he saw Buffy smirk as she recognized the song. Yeah, that might not be the best memory, but it was a memory of a time when the world was less likely to end immediately, so that was something. Tara bopped along to the music, a wide grin spreading across her face. He wished her lover was here to see it, would've warmed her aching heart.

The ride was a couple of hours - less, the way he drove. Buffy fell asleep. She did look…cute, blonde hair framing her face like an angel. And, funny enough, it was Angel who was popping into his head.

See, he'd remembered a little something. A fight they'd had a few days ago that seemed bloody insignificant now, about Buffy lying to her ex-lover. Based on the existing evidence – Spike wasn't a pile of dust – Angel had bought it. But he sure as hell wasn't going to believe it when the Scoobies showed up knowing nothing about Spike's supposed shiny new soul. The Poof was thick, but it didn't take a mastermind to see through that kind of lie. And like that, Spike would be out on his arse.

He wasn't sure if his grandsire would let the rest stay anyway, though. Angelus had been all about grudges back in the day, and as far as Spike could tell, not much had changed as far as that was concerned. He might not actively seek revenge, but if it came knocking on his doorstep, well…

Still, the rest of the Scoobies could honestly claim ignorance, and even Angel's caveman face was a sucker for Buffy's woe-is-me puppy dog eyes, so it'd probably just be him getting the boot. He could make it on his own, sure, but it would be tough for him to keep an eye on the Summers girls without Angel noticing.

"Spike? Introspection time is officially over," Buffy joked, sitting a little more upright. "We're in LA."

Huh. "So we are, kitten. Let's roll."

* * *

><p>Spike's idea of rolling, apparently, was to get stuck in a traffic jam and then to nearly crash the car finding a way <em>out<em> of the traffic jam. After Tara stopped screaming and clinging onto Buffy's arm, it was actually kind of fun, in a masochistic kind of way.

When they finally got to the hotel, Buffy's began to stress-count the cars. Xander – check. Giles – check. An unfamiliar car that must be Spike's friend's – check. And them. She smiled nervously at Spike.

Before she could even open the back door, Cordelia was there, with her trademark light bulb grin. She looked a little different than Buffy remembered – for one things, she was wearing _jeans_ and a loose-fitting blouse – but that smile definitely hadn't changed. "Buffy, hi!" she said brightly, opening the door. _Okay, is she actually excited to see me or is she about to follow this up with some snide comment_?

"Where's Angel?" Buffy asked, before she realized that she was actually speaking out loud. Part of her, the part of her that would always be that sixteen-year-old girl infatuated with him, was a little disappointed. She'd come all the way to L.A., depended on him for help, and he couldn't even come out to greet her? It was all dark and stuff, not like he'd catch fire. Maybe he had the vampire flu and didn't want to give it to her.

Ha.

Cordelia glanced behind her, as if expecting him to have appeared as soon as Buffy said his name. "I told him to stay inside – it's crowded and everyone's tired and I don't think Angel really _gets_ hospitality, you know? Probably all those years of living in a dumpster and eating rats. I figured he can learn the hard way." She shrugged.

"You told him to stay inside," Buffy repeated incredulously. "And he listened to you?"

The other woman nodded and leaned in conspiratorially. "You have to be very firm with him. He's like a dog. A big, broody vampire dog." Before Buffy had a chance to formulate some kind of response to that statement that wasn't _who are you and what the hell have you done to Cordelia Chase – and Angel for that matter_, Spike got out of the car and the light bulb was back. "Hi, Spike! Just so you know ahead of time, I don't want to be impaled again."

He frowned. "Don't be blamin' me for Red and the boy's indiscretion."

"Yeah, but I wouldn't have known about it if you hadn't kidnapped them, duh. Or at least I wouldn't have been in the hospital for a week. But hey, water under the bridge, yadda yadda. By the way, since you're not evil now, have you considered losing the all-black look? I've managed to get Angel to incorporate some more earth tones, and I think it looks way better. I get it, the whole creature of the night thing, and black is flattering, but I think you vampires just take it a little too far."

Spike didn't reply. Instead, he opened the door and began trying to coax Tara out. Cordelia, catching sight of this, said to Buffy, "Oh, is she Willow's girlfriend?"

Buffy blinked. "Uh, you know about Willow?"

"She kind of came out to me on the phone a little while back…there was a big mix-up when Harmony was in town." She laughed a little, and Buffy's awkwardness-feelings were amplified. Cordelia and Willow talked on the phone? Cordelia and Willow had inside jokes? Had Spike driven through some alternate universe portal while she was asleep?

Spike had caught at least the last part of Cordelia's sentence, and he went paler than usual as Tara gingerly stepped out of the back. "Harm was here?" he asked cautiously. Buffy stifled a snort.

"Yeah, you know her? She was here a month ago, but I kicked her out when she double-crossed us. Hi, I'm Cordelia." This last part was directed to Tara, who shrank back a little and murmured something about the moon.

"Tara was…attacked, magically. A hellgod sort of sucked her brain out," Buffy said quietly.

Cordelia's eyes widened with a strange amount of sympathy. "God, I didn't know. A vision about _that_ would have been helpful, PTB."

Buffy decided to ignore that last nonsensical sentence.

"Do you need help with your bags?" Cordelia asked, because it was obviously impossible for her to shut up for more than half a second.

Wait. _Bags_. Buffy shut her eyes. "I totally forgot to pack stuff for myself," she said, more to herself than any of the others. She opened them again. "I think Willow has Tara's stuff."

Cordelia looked at Spike. "And something tells me you're the travel light type."

He smirked. "Yeah, everythin' I need is here."

"Well, come on," Cordelia said, walking toward the hotel. "I have some stuff that I leave here, some of it should fit you, Buffy. It might be a little bigger in the breast area, but that'll be fine. And we can go shopping tomorrow!"

"Joy," Buffy muttered, quietly enough so only Spike could hear. The corners of his lips twitched.

The hotel was…big. Part of her wanted to be a little bitter. Here she was in Sunnydale, scraping by and hoping that there weren't any medical bills left to be taken care of, and Angel was living it up in Los Angeles.

_Or…undeading it up, I guess_.

Tara must have caught a glimpse of Willow, because she went tearing off to another part of the hotel. Buffy watched, a little sadly. If she'd been a better leader, they would have been gone before Glory could have hurt her.

"So Angel owns this place?" Spike asked Cordelia, with as much disdain as he could muster. Buffy elbowed him. He ignored her.

"The hotel? Yeah. But technically, the business is Wes's now."

Wes? As in, Wesley? As in, Wesley Wyndham-Pryce? Was Angel's boss?

Maybe she did have it better after all.

Wesley – speak of the devil – caught sight of them and made his way over immediately. If Cordelia seemed different, Wesley was like an entire other person. He strode over to them with real confidence, not put on, and he looked way…not older, but more mature. He'd obviously seen some battles in the last couple of years.

"Good to see you again, Buffy," he greeted warmly, and to her surprise, he enveloped her in a friendly hug. He was definitely stronger than he had been, but remembering herself, she returned the embrace only lightly. They didn't need to crack the ribs of Angel's…boss. She still couldn't get over that.

Still…_damn_. He was kinda hot now. _I wonder if Cordelia is still into him? _Buffy sneaked a glance, but there was nothing there to suggest anything beyond a friendly professional relationship. Wesley shook Spike's hand, showing nothing but hospitality, even though Buffy suspected he wasn't crazy about having another famed killer under this roof.

"So it's just you three working here?" she asked with polite interest.

Wes shook his head. "Our friend and colleague, Charles Gunn, is another member of Angel Investigations. Unfortunately, he had somewhat of a crisis and was unable to be here tonight. You'll probably meet him tomorrow."

"Where's Peaches?" Spike asked, looking around.

After a second, Wesley seemed to register that Spike was referring to Angel. "I believe he's finding accommodations for your friend – Clem?"

The vampire nodded. "Good of him," he said cautiously. "Surprised he's willing to put up a demon. Or that you are."

"Oh, no, actually we've had quite a few pacifist demons as clients," Wesley explained. Spike raised an eyebrow but didn't comment further.

"There he is," Buffy said, turning away.

When Angel reached them, he embraced her first. It was nice, but she didn't feel that usual rush. "I'm glad you're here, Buffy," he murmured.

"Well, I'm glad you're giving us a place to stay, because I totally can't afford an actual hotel," she joked. "This place is really nice, by the way."

"Thanks."

Angel said something quietly to Cordelia as Spike eyed him warily. Cordy turned to Buffy, with a bright smile that seemed a little fake this time. "Hey, let's go find you some clothes!"

Buffy wasn't stupid. Obviously, Angel wanted to talk to Spike alone – and maybe try to beat him up. She took a deep breath and reassured herself that Spike could hold his own, and that they probably wouldn't actually kill each other. Besides, it was pointless to fight against the whirlwind of Cordelia Chase, who was physically dragging her away. She sighed and accepted her fate.

* * *

><p>"So this is the big man's office?" Spike said with exaggerated amazement as Angel shepherded him into the office. Yeah, shepherded, like he was a bloody sheep and his grandsire was a dog. Spike didn't appreciate it. "And by the big man, I mean Wesley, not you, obviously."<p>

Angel gritted his teeth, but to Spike's surprise (and disappointment) he didn't try to retaliate. "I didn't bring you here to fight."

"Oh, I see. You just wanted my advice on your interior decorating." Spike pretended to consider the room. "I dunno, mate, I think you need some artwork to spruce up the place, yeah? Maybe a throw rug, too, while you're at it."

"I thought," Angel pushed on valiantly, "that you should hear the whole story about Dru."

Well. If that was the way he wanted to play it, Spike would bloody well play along. He sat in Wesley's chair, crossed his legs, and propped his boots up on the desk. Angel hesitated, with an emotion stronger than perturbed but a little less than brassed off. "I'm listening," Spike said pleasantly.

His grandsire cleared his throat, then launched into a story about an evil law firm, a resurrected Darla (those lawyers really _were_ evil to bring that bint back), and sordid sex. Well, the wanker didn't so much describe the sex or even mention it at all, but Spike could read between the lines. Angel didn't have the willpower to stay away from Darla for two seconds.

But before the sex was the fire. Angel, in a fit of reminiscent badassery, had apparently been lighting up in a building he'd lined with gasoline. Drop the cig and boom, no more Darla. But Dru'd been with her and her instincts were less than good. Grandmama had left her and Angel "hadn't been able to reach her". Bollocks, like he'd have saved her. Angelus had ruined her, and she was too impure for souled Angel to help.

They fell silent after that. Spike took the time to muse on the circumstances. He'd always figured Dru would go before he would, being insane and what all, but he thought angry mobs or maybe a Slayer he was chasing. Not her very own sire and grandsire offing her.

And, as he'd always imagined, he'd go down fighting soon after. Go into a battle totally unprepared, wage a war, something huge. The purpose or foe didn't matter.

Yet here he was, still bloody undead and with more will to keep going than ever. All his romantic notions about Dru had fallen away, it seemed. He would have saved her, he felt sure of that, but part of him…the small part that wasn't raging and bleeding and wanting to cry…that part was relieved. Damn his own hypocrisy.

But damn his grandsire's more. A deeper circle of hell, fierier torment, whatever.

"When had you last seen her?" Angel asked, voice a little rough. Was he actually upset? Or was this some sort of show, for Buffy's benefit via Spike? He wasn't sure how that made sense, but the Poof had to have an angle.

"I went back to her after that last time in Sunnydale, but she refused to have me for long. I guess that was a couple years ago now. So I bounced around the world a bit and then came back."

Angel's brow furrowed, and considering the amount of brow he had, that gave about half his face wrinkles. "That seems unlike her, don't you think? I mean, she's not usually the type to hold a grudge, if she can even remember it."

Spike bites back the scathing comment he's forming. The truth will hurt dear pops so much more. "She left me because she had visions. Saw me fallin' for the Slayer, and didn't want none of me after that. Sure, for a night or two she'd be happy, then she'd be off snogging some hideous demon as…payback, I s'pose. Payback for a sin I hadn't yet committed."

Yeah, there went his fist, all balled up and white and ready to punch poor innocent Spike in the face. So bloody predictable. He wasn't ready quite yet, though, but if Angel had been acartoon character there would be steam coming out of his ears. "So you came back to Sunnydale to win Buffy over?"

God, it would be fun to lie to him, to go all ooey-gooey, but he remembered Dawn and shut down his response. Instead, he scoffed. "Oh, bloody hell. No. I went back to kill her."

"Not exactly making a case for yourself," Angel muttered.

Spike tilted his head, enjoying the effect he was having. "Well, I failed, obviously. Then a couple weeks later, got snatched up by some military blokes who put a bit of metal in my head, kept me from killing or hurting any humans. Still in there and functional, in case you're skittish about me being around your precious companions."

His grandsire acknowledged this with a nod.

Right, how to incorporate the soul thing. He'd never been very good at outright lying, so he could just skirt around the issue. "Then, uh, I teamed up with the Scoobies, we beat some baddies up, a few life-changing experiences later and now I'm here at your doorstep. Oughta be published in Ripley's."

The other vampire sniffed. "Why are you here?"

Spike's eyebrows shot up. "Buffy didn't tell you? Alright, I'll give you the condensed version. Dawn is a mystical key, Glory – that's the hellbint that sucked out Glinda's brains and nearly made me into mincemeat – wants to use her to open up some almighty hell portal and doom us all, and the Hellmouth is even less safe than usual for Buffy and company."

Angel shook his head, frustrated, and said, "No, why are _you_ here?"

"I'm in love with Buffy," he said slowly, like one might say to an incredibly stupid and ugly little child. "And I love Dawn like my own flesh and blood. Or more, actually, since I s'pose that would include you. The rest of the Scoobies I can take or leave, although Glinda – Red's girlfriend – is a decent sort and Anya's good for a laugh."

"Anya," Angel said thoughtfully. "She's Xander's girlfriend, right?"

"The very same, although I'll never understand what she sees in the git." _Even if he's been a little better of late_, he added, feeling almost guilty. Anyway, Angel was no big fan of the boy's, that was clear to see. Probably his long-lasting soft spot for Buffy. Xander's, not Angel's. Well, really, both of theirs. And now he was thinking about "Buffy" and "soft", and he really needed to stay alive for the foreseeable future. Keep talking, Spike. "She used to be a demon, you know," he added quickly. "A vengeance demon, and a damn good one from what I understand. Older than me, you, and the old hag put together."

The Darla reference didn't seem to brass off his grandsire as much as he'd hoped. Maybe it'd gone over his head. "And this Glinda you mentioned –"

"Real name of Tara, but I like to call her Glinda sometimes because, well, it'd make sense if you knew her. She's Will's girlfriend – yeah, she plays for the other team now. Tara's gone a bit batty on account of Glory sucking her brains out, but Red'll fix her up. She's really picked up the magicks now."

"And Dawn's a key," Angel said slowly.

"Yeah. She's actually only existed this year." Spike shrugged. "Can't imagine you miss life on the Hellmouth, but it's never boring there."

For a long second, they just looked at each other. Made him a little uncomfortable, if he was being entirely honest. Finally, Angel said, "I know you don't have your soul back."

Well, damn.

Spike didn't even try to hide it. Pointless, really. Angel might be thick, but once he latched onto an idea he wouldn't let it go. Instead, he sighed dramatically. "Well, I guess it's a good thing I haven't unpacked yet. I'll have to find somewhere near enough that'll take me, and it's just too bad for Dawn that one of the few people that she knows, trusts, and is strong enough to protect her can't be there, but I s'pose that's how it has to be."

Angel barely even registered that he was talking. "You don't have your soul back, but you are…different. What is it? A curse? That chip, it's some kind of moral guide? You took an acting class? Whatever it is, Buffy seems to really believe it."

Spike rolled his eyes. "It was _Buffy's_ idea to tell you that, so you wouldn't come and stake me in my sleep. I was firmly opposed to it, but then, when does that change anything? And the chip doesn't do jack except give me a shock when I directly hurt a human. Demons, no problem, and I think indirect harm is alright, but punches, bites, et cetera are out."

Angel stood up and started pacing. "That's not possible. You don't have a soul. Spike," he added threateningly, "if I find out this was all some…scheme to get into Buffy's life, I will personally ensure that your death is slow and painful. You know I know how."

"It's bloody not!" Spike exclaimed, getting up. Had nothing left to lose, really – Angel was about to kick him out any second now. "I love her and she loves me and if you try to get rid of me she will kick your arse. And you know she knows how."

Angel set his jaw. Then, through gritted teeth, he said, "I'm sure Cordelia has a room ready for you. And I'll be watching you."

Spike was honestly speechless, so he left the room with nothing but a smirk and a half-sarcastic salute. Huh. A room ready in the Hyperion hotel. _Tha_t he could unlive with.


	11. Chapter 11

A Spark of Love

_Chapter Eleven_

* * *

><p><em>Previously: <em>Glory turns into Ben, but Buffy forgets immediately. Spike sends Dawn to LA with Clem. Cordelia greets them when they reach the Hyperion, and Spike and Angel have a conversation. Angel knows that Spike does not have his soul, but allows him to stay.

* * *

><p>"Okay, coast is clear," Cordelia reported in a stage whisper, giving Buffy a little push. "Go, go, go!"<p>

The talk between Spike and Angel had gone way better than she'd expected: they were both unharmed, if kind of pissed off, and Spike was allowed to stay. Cordelia, outside of Angel's knowledge (_is that how she does everything? is Cordelia the actual boss here? scary thought_) had chosen for them a suite on the third floor. That is, just one floor above Angel's own suite. "I think the walls and floors and stuff are pretty thick, but I'd still be careful," she had said a little nervously. Buffy had opened her mouth to explain that they weren't sleeping together (yet), but after a minute of not getting a word in edgewise, she gave up. It wasn't any of Cordy's business anyway, no matter how much she tried to make it hers. Why did she even care?

"Thanks, pet," Spike said absently, after the three of them had dashed up the stairs and reached the doorway. Cordelia handed them each a key.

"Yeah, thanks, Cordy," Buffy added, not about to be outdone by him. What the hell even was this? Spike was like, the rudest person she knew. Well, except when her mom was around, but Cordelia was nothing like Joyce. _Nothing at all._

Cordelia didn't seem to notice Buffy's reservations. "Great. Okay, well – good night. And Buffy, shopping in the morning?"

She felt herself grimace a little. Yeah, so she did like shopping, and it had been a while since she'd been able to do something like that with a friend – but Cordelia wasn't really a friend, and this whole sitch was just too wacky to even think about. "Uh…" she hedged.

"Come on, when was the last time you went shopping in L.A.? I know all the new outlets, too, so don't worry if it's the money thing. Turns out, assistant to a vampire detective and sometimes-prophet is not really a job that pays that well." She shrugged.

Crap! She was smiling back! "Okay," she heard herself saying. "Sounds like fun."

Cordy smiled wider. "See you then!"

Spike was already unlocking the door and opening it wide. Buffy looked at him, wondering if he felt as unsure as she did. It was one thing, stolen moments in her bed, but the whole acknowledgement of their relationship and _oh god_ was this a honeymoon suite? Everything seemed a little too much all of a sudden, like all the stress from the day had all fallen on this single second. She was staring inside, and he chuckled.

"After you, love," he said in that stupid, sexy voice. She wanted to punch his stupid, sexy face. And then, just maybe, kiss him.

Something in his eyes reassured her. He looked a little unsure, too, which was crazy because he was like a hundred and didn't have any judgy-type friends or potentially jealous ex a floor down. Although there always was the possibility of her jealous ex coming upstairs to put a stake in him.

Buffy went in first, despite her reservations. The room was pretty, if obviously dated. Spike closed the door a little too loudly behind her and locked it. Her heartbeat quickened before she realized – _duh. Angel._ Of course, that didn't mean he wasn't also thinking what she was thinking. Was he thinking what she was thinking? What if he wasn't, or what if he was thinking that she was thinking what he was thinking and then he'd tell her that and then she'd tell him she was thinking what he was thinking…okay, yeah, she'd officially stopped making sense.

And then she quit thinking at all when he turned around and looked at her.

Sometimes Spike's blue eyes looked like someone freezing to death in the arctic ice or something, but right now they were more akin to the streak of blue in the middle of a flame. If she didn't already know he was room temperature, she would have expected him to be feverish as he crossed the short distance between them and slipped his hands around her waist. Instead, nope, it was just her feeling like her skin was going to burn right off her body.

She tried to say something – what, she wasn't really sure – but it came out sounding like a strangled, needy moan. Just great. They were on the run from a hellgod, her sister was in even graver danger than usual, and they were staying at her ex's hotel and here she was making _those_ noises. Buffy pushed him away, a little more harshly than she meant to. He stumbled back, looking confused and wounded but not mad.

"I just…I don't think it's a good time right now," she said, forcing herself to make a coherent-ish sentence.

He blinked those eyes at her again. "Pet," he murmured, stepping closer once more. "What better time is there? Any bloody minute Glory might burst in or Peaches might kick me out, or any number of other disasters like plague our lives. This is how people are when the world's going to hell, yeah? They comfort each other."

She thought about saying _but you're not people_. She didn't. Instead, she took a step forward, so that they were almost touching. "Well, then get with the comforting," she whispered, threading her arms around him.

Spike's response was immediate. He pressed his lips fervently to hers, like a desperate prayer. She matched his passion, almost expecting to taste blood in the force of the kiss. His arms wrapped around her waist, and within a minute she was gasping against the wall.

_Maybe he's right for once_, she thought woozily through the feel of his hands on her. _Maybe this is the perfect time for…_

For a knock on the door, apparently. Spike's insistent touch faltered. Buffy pulled away, still breathing heavily and praying that it was just a mix-up. Maybe Anya got lost or something.

"Look," rang out her sister's voice, "I know you guys are probably making out or whatever but my room is really creepy and I found a roach in the closet so can I come in?"

They exchanged a look, and Buffy sighed before heading to the door. Dawn raised an eyebrow triumphantly at her mussed state, but despite her snark, something was definitely up. Buffy locked the door back behind her sister, hoping that'd ease the crease on Dawn's forehead. Nope. She was definitely starting to look prematurely middle-aged.

Well, duh. The hellgod who was after her had just found out today that it was her she was after, and now they were miles from home. And here Buffy was, acting like _she_ got to be the stupid teenager in love. She offered Dawn a smile. _It's just one night, after all_.

* * *

><p>Spike registered, as if from miles away, the dulcet tones of Miss Cordelia Chase. Asking Buffy something or the other, she was, and being bloody loud about it.<p>

The worst thing about hanging around humans, he decided in that instant, was their tendency to get up in the morning. Bloody disgusting. He allowed his eyes to open. Cordelia was standing in front of the couch where the three of them had fallen asleep, and seemed to be gabbing on and on about…shopping. "If we leave in about an hour, we can get lunch and then hit all the shops. Oh, Buffy, it'll be just like old times. Except, well, we'll probably get along better and there won't be as many demons. I hope. Anyway, in L.A. there are a lot of friendly demons, so it's probably all good."

"Right," Buffy mumbled, sounding as tired as he felt. She nudged Dawn with her arm, but the younger girl just murmured in her sleep and turned over. "I guess she doesn't want to go."

They stood up and Spike gave himself back up to sleep.

When he woke up again, Dawn was just stirring. Buffy probably hadn't been gone too long, although he hadn't looked at the clock. He was tempted to fall asleep once more until he heard voices from downstairs. Specifically, Angel's voice.

If he could be diurnal, Spike bloody well could be too. He swung his legs off the couch – damn, he was sore – and gently shook the Niblet. "Think it's rightly day now, pet," he said softly. Her eyelids fluttered and she woke with a massive, unladylike yawn.

He left her to her morning preparations, whatever that might involve, and stumbled down the stairs. _So much for natural vampiric grace_. The last few days had taken a lot out of him, and he was starving.

Spike passed the witches on his way – Red was reading to Tara. Made a fine picture, and he offered them a low "morning". Angel, Wesley, and Giles were crowded around a lot of musty texts, and didn't acknowledge his presence as he strode by them to the fridge. Ah, full of pig's blood. It'd do.

He caught a bit of their conversation as he poured it into a mug – some lot about Greek and demon languages. Likely a pidgin language or maybe a cipher, he supposed. _Will Buffy be gone all day and leave me stuck with this bloody lot?_ The microwave dinged, and he took his mug over to the Table of Dullness ™.

Angel glared at him as he walked over. "Thanks for offering to contribute, Spike, but we don't need crude jokes and sarcasm. We're trying to translate this prophecy – Wesley thinks it might be important."

"Oh, right, translation work. Yeah, I s'pose you'd be much better at that – I only studied Classics at Oxford when I was human, but you got a degree in, what was it? Hmm, I remember, it was the contents of tavern whores' bodices. Let me have a look see, anyway." Spike set down his mug and moved intentionally into Angel's personal space.

Wesley was openly gaping at him, but the other ex-Watcher seemed unsurprised. Probably already knew, the nosy git. Angel's jaw was twitching, but before he could really blow a fuse, the front door swung open.

A man strode in – must be Gunn, they'd mentioned him last night. Spike took a swig of blood and watched him. He seemed self-possessed, and more than a bit wary of Angel. Spike liked him. To no one's surprise, Angel didn't bother introducing them, so he just gave the newcomer a small wave and left it at that. No need to get bloody chummy with this L.A. gang, even if they didn't quite fawn over the Poof the way he'd expected them to.

"Hey," Spike said suddenly, remembering. Angel looked up, annoyed, like he'd interrupted something important. Please. "Where's Clem gone off to?"

Giles 2.0 cleared his throat. "He, er…I believe he said he was going to Vegas."

"Clem's gone?" an unseen voice demanded. Ah, the Niblet had finally joined the living. Or, well, the unliving in some cases. She put her hands on her hips, very Buffyesque. Based on Angel's eye twitch, he didn't miss the resemblance either. So, just to rub some salt in the other vampire's bleeding wounds, he sauntered over to her and gave her a friendly, brotherly embrace.

"S'pose he's the smartest of our lot," Spike murmured, ruffling her hair. She glared at him, patently Buffy again. Funny how that look inspired completely different feelings when coming from this one, though. Much less lusty and much more...brotherly. Of course, he'd been an only child, so he could only assume that's what it was like. "We shoulda gone to Vegas, pet. Bet you and me could have cleaned up nicely at the tables."

"I'm pretty sure I'm too young to gamble," Dawn said matter-of-factly, smiling a little. "Plus, we're both totally broke."

He gave her a look and put a finger to his lips. She rolled her eyes and went over to greet the Wiccas.

The men gathered around the table stopped their hushed talking as soon as she walked off. Well, bloody fine then. He didn't need their stamp of approval on his existence. Only reason he'd gone to the hell away from hell was for the Summers girls, and that wasn't a secret. He'd shout it from Angel's bleeding rooftop if he wouldn't end up a speck of dust on some vapid starlet's oversized sunglasses.

But if they didn't need him at this exact second, he'd use his free time to make Angel's unlife an unliving hell.

* * *

><p>If she could have gone back to the past and told her high school self that she'd go on a shopping trip with Cordelia Chase, Xander, and Xander's current girlfriend who was also an ex-demon, past!Buffy would have laughed her out of town. If she had then told her past self that she would actually kind of enjoy herself on said trip…well, high school Buffy's brain would have been fried for sure.<p>

But it was kind of fun, in a bondy way she'd been missing lately. Anya pulled Xander along like a hyperactive puppy (his analogy, not hers), while Cordelia simply strolled. She still had that confidence Buffy remembered oh-so-clearly, but she obviously wasn't the same Cordy. Something in her had changed, and she seemed more…peaceful, somehow. The whole thing was a little freaksome, but in the freakshow that was Buffy's life she couldn't exactly pick and choose her happy moments. After being on the run from an evil skank with a literal god complex, shopping with Cordelia Chase really was kinda pleasant.

"So, Buffy, how have things been?" she asked, barely glancing at the clothes as she brushed her fingers by the racks. "Besides the whole apocalypse of the week and everything. I mean, you and Spike seem…still major-league weird, but in a cute way. I think."

The brunette's smile seemed sincere, and Buffy found herself wondering if there was some sort of parasite body-stealing demon making the rounds in L.A. _Where's the real Cordelia? In the back of some closet somewhere?_ "Uh, thanks. I think." She offered a cheeky smile.

"I have to be honest with you, I was kind of worried when I found out you were coming to town," Cordelia informed her as she inspected a silk scarf. "I mean, no offense or anything but every time you're here Angel turns into a black cloud of mopiness for at _least_ a month. And I just think that's kind of unfair."

_Oh, there she is_. "Unfair for who?" The fighty edge was in her voice, but Buffy didn't really care.

"Angel, duh. For whatever reason he just can't get over you, and it so doesn't help when you keep going through boyfriends like they're nail polish. He's perpetually stuck on you and it makes him miserable, so I wasn't exactly rolling out the red carpet, but…I think he's handling more than usual. Probably because he's focusing all that miserable energy on how much he hates Spike. So good job, I guess, on picking a guy Angel hates even more than he loves you."

Buffy was actually dumbfounded. She tried to open her mouth but made just a couple of weird, animal-like noises and then shut it again. Okay, the fun factor of this little outing was rapidly disappearing, and she was starting to get flashbacks to homecoming night. "Wow, Cordelia," she said finally. "I didn't know you cared that much about Angel."

Cue the patented Cordelia Chase You-Really-Are-As-Dumb-As-You-Look eyebrow raise. "Of course I care about Angel," she huffed, brushing her hair back with one hand. "He's an idiot and a dork, but he's our idiot and dork, even if he does have 'property of Buffy Summers' stamped on his ass."

Her smile at that was a little too wide – scratch that, way too wide, and Buffy had a sinking feeling in her stomach. Cordelia had had a thing for Angel back in the day, sure, but that was pre-Angelus, and she hadn't wanted anything to do with him since. When she'd heard they were working together in L.A., she almost keeled over from the shock. But maybe, since coming here, Cordelia had set her sights on Buffy's brooding ex again.

It shouldn't have bothered her, but it totally did.

"So, what's the what?" Xander cut in, apparently oblivious to the tension between the two women. Or maybe just electing to ignore it – it wasn't like a fight between them was anything new.

Buffy was in the midst of trying to figure out a clever answer when she realized that Cordelia seemed to be passing out. "Oh, shit," the brunette mumbled, pressing a hand to her forehead and stumbling. "Not _now_."

To Anya's chagrin, Xander caught his fainting ex easily while Buffy remained partially paralyzed with her currently hateish feelings toward Cordy. "Does this happen to you often?" he joked as her eyes fluttered open, but he was making that face that meant he was actually worried.

"Actually, yes," she said, evidently in pain. "Thanks to the direct link to the PTB in my head. They've never heard of cell phones, apparently."

"Direct link?" Buffy repeated. _What, so she's psychic now? That's just freakin' great._

"Oh!" Anya exclaimed, seeming pleased to have a contribution. "You're a Seer now. What's your vision? Are there smells? I've heard there can be smells."

"A vision?" Buffy said again, feeling a little like one of those talking toy parrots. "Like…seeing the future?" _Like Drusilla? _she added silently. _So_ not a thought she wanted to be having right now.

"An army," Cordelia said. "Uh – yeah, smell. Sweat. Human sweat, I think, it doesn't seem demony. And a big swirly thing."

"A portal?" Anya supplied.

"Yeah, that."

"Do you, uh, feel anything?" Xander asked, still holding onto her.

"Like a million hammers are banging on my head," Cordelia said wryly, "but nothing relevant, I think." With obvious effort, she stood up and patted down her hair. "We better go tell the rest of the team."

"Yeah, we should do that," Buffy agreed quickly, her inner (or maybe outer, whatever) control freak rearing its head. It was stupid, really, but she felt like she had a claim on these people that should keep them from being bossed around by the likes of Cordelia Chase. Even if she was Cordelia Chase 2.0, now with supernatural powers!

_Okay, petty time's over. Time to roll_.

* * *

><p>"About bleedin' time," Spike said aloud as the hunting party opened the hotel door. Anya, unsurprisingly, had a few purchases, but the other three were unladen. Cordelia – he'd yet to think of a good nickname for her that didn't involve her breasts – looked damned knackered. But he forgot all about her when Buffy set her eyes on him and actually smiled, making a beeline right for him.<p>

"How was the shopping pet?" he murmured, not sure how much PDA she'd allow.

Buffy took a step forward and he could have sworn his heart pounded. Suddenly he was like a boy at his first society ball. Bloody William, always surfacing to bollix things up for him. But he couldn't think about that now, with Slayer here giving him the bedroom eyes. "It was good," she said, just as quietly. "I missed you."

Well, to hell with what she'd allow or what the others would think. Angel could hang himself for all he cared. "Is that so?" She nodded, looking strangely satisfied with herself. He leaned in, embracing her, and pressed his lips against hers.

Next thing he knew, they were on their way to making out like a pair of randy teenagers. The Watcher cleared his throat, and Spike was certain he was polishing his glasses as well, especially when Buffy made this sort of throaty moan that plunged him into a whole new level of need.

But when they finally broke apart – she needed air, a problem he didn't have – the other hotel occupants were at least pretending not to gawk. Spike stifled a snicker. The only thing that could make being with the Slayer better was knowing that Angel had to watch, and he was going to take advantage of that as often as possible.

For her part, Buffy seemed a bit too pleased with herself for someone who kept worrying about what her friends would think, so there was probably a bit of a motive there, too. Not like he gave a rat's arse. It had affected her – she was still flushed and breathing heavily, and every so often she'd shoot him another longing gaze. Forget Angel, that was worth everything right there.

The younger Watcher was hemming and hawing over something – an army? An interdimensional portal? "Cordelia had a vision," Buffy said. He digested that tasty morsel of information, realized it made sense, and decided to call her Vision Girl from now on for kicks. Based on what he knew of the brunette, she probably wouldn't mind, and it was better than "Sugar Baps".

"Wait, an army," Red said suddenly. "Like maybe those armored guys Buffy fought way back?"

"Oh yeah." Buffy seemed to struggle with remembering them. "What were they called? The Knights of…Business and Team?"

"The Knights of Byzantium," Rupert corrected, in that long-suffering tone of his. "Yes, if there are still enough of them to comprise an army, it is very possible. They _were _known to seek the Key, according to the very few texts that mention them."

"They didn't like Glory, though," Willow put in. "Maybe we can team up with them?"

"Ooh, I like that idea," the boy said enthusiastically, rubbing his hands together. "Any battle where we have an army is a good thing in my book. Remember graduation day?"

Those who were present took time to remember it. Spike, who only knew about the events based on Dawn's retelling of Buffy's account, sighed. "But if those knights were fighting Buffy to begin with, I doubt they'd want to pal around," he said. "Sounds to me like they're already pissed off, and the last thing we need is a bleedin' army targeting us. If we let them think that Glory has the Key, they'll throw themselves at her and one or the other will polish themselves off for us. Presto, just one baddie to fight against, and my money's on Glory."

"Wait," Gunn said, raising his eyebrows. "I don't know anything about this army, but I gotta ask – are they human?"

"Yeah," Buffy replied tiredly. "They are."

"And we're just casually talking about giving them over to a god who'll tear them apart and suck their brains out?"

"No, Chip Boy here is suggesting it," Xander said crossly. _What's got his panties in a twist? _"And I hope _some _of us remember that he's a cold-blooded killer. Of course the murder of humans wouldn't bother him."

"In case you haven't noticed, several of you are human and I'm trying to save your arses, God knows why," Spike shot back. "You're a good little team for small evils but a god plus an army seems like a bit much. Just trying to lessen the load, and yeah, I'd rather have some bleedin' zealots I don't know go to their deaths than have it happen to Buffy or any of her lot. You telling me you'd rather see your girl dead than a few nameless soldiers?"

"That's different."

"How? Bloody hell, she was a demon for hundreds of years, and she's lived longer than all of us put together. You don't have to like it, but I don't think an army is just going to realize we can all hug and be friends. They want Dawn dead. Either Glory kills them or we have to – and I can't, remember?"

"Spike has a point," Wesley said. _Well, well. Wouldn't have expected that vote of confidence_. "As much as I would like to adhere to ethical standards, this is a dangerous situation. They are attempting to kill us, so placing them in harm's way would be simple self-defense. Most of us are human, and those of us who are not…well, one is unable to harm humans, and the other would prefer not to, I'm certain. This may well be our best option."

Everybody seemed to exchange looks. Based on Buffy's, he wasn't going to be getting any more kisses like that for a long time.

"They don't know Dawn is the Key." Buffy's voice broke the silence. She sounded quiet, but resigned. Her commander voice. _Oh, hell, I've broken her._ "I could go, let myself be captured."

He hadn't wanted to rip her throat out that much since…well, never, actually. "They'll know you're the Slayer, love," he countered angrily. "I'll go."

"Sounds like a great plan," Angel said lazily, "except they'll spot you as a vampire from a mile off."

"You're one too, in case you forgot, so don't you suggest you'll play the bloody hero."

"Not what I had in mind." He sat up a little straighter, and he had that stupid little better-than-you look that made Spike want to punch him. More than usual, that is. "They know the Slayer's protecting the Key. But Buffy isn't the only Slayer."

Well, he didn't have to worry about Angel getting any love from Buffy, at least. From the expression on her face, he might as well have pinned a dead puppy to her dorm room door. "_No_," she said emphatically. "We're not bringing her into this."

Wesley had also visibly blanched, and Spike suddenly wanted to know the whole story. He'd heard of Faith, of course, and remembered when they were looking for her, but nothing had ever come of it. Apparently she'd made the rounds in L.A. as well.

"Faith is a loose cannon, Angel," Rupert said carefully. "I don't think we can risk it."

"A loose cannon who owes us all a favor," Angel pointed out, still with that annoyingly smug face. Oh wait. That was just his face. Damn him. "And she's changed."

* * *

><p>"You sure put a lot of faith in her," Buffy said, glaring. <em>Pun totally intentional.<em> "I don't trust her, and I don't want her to know who the Key is."

Dawn, who had been so silent Buffy had nearly forgotten she was there, spoke up. "Faith is a piece of scum. But…she doesn't have to know I'm the Key, right? We don't owe her anything. She stole Buffy's body, her boyfriend, tried to kill all of us at least once…"

"She stole your body?" Spike asked, looking shocked. It was almost cute.

"Yeah, back when she was in town. Then she slept with Riley." _It's amazing how last year's problems seem so minor league compared to the Glory threat_.

"Wait…that was her?"

He could probably hear that her heart stopped beating, but Buffy didn't care. "She didn't…with you, too?" _Oh, god, please no. I'm already way not sure about being ready to sleep with him, but if it turns out that Faith already did…in my body…_

"No, she just…said some things. Uncharacteristic things for you to say, but I figured you were just feeling particularly sadistic and bitchy. No offense, pet," he smirked.

"Well, Faith has a track record of trying to steal my boyfriends, so I wouldn't have been surprised if she –" Buffy stopped short. _Did I just – oh well. I mean, they all saw me make out with him, so it won't surprise anyone._

_Except him_.

And sure enough, Spike was looking at her like she had just built him a castle made of blood, liquor, and cigarettes. And that team he liked so much, Manchester or whatever. He didn't comment, though, just kept giving her that glowing look that made her feel all warm and tingly and a lot more amenable to the idea of calling him her boyfriend than she'd been before it accidentally slipped out.

"_Anyway_," Dawn said, smirking at them, "can't we just tell her that the Key is like, I don't know, an old shoe? Like a Portkey."

Xander raised his hand. "Uh…not meaning to rain on the parade, but isn't Faith in prison?"

"She has superpowers, honey," Anya said gently. "I mean, heck, if she wanted to kill us all she probably could have broken out by now, right?"

_Comforting thought_.

"The sun is setting!" Tara exclaimed, hiding her face. "The sun is setting!"

It was midday, but Willow still opened the blinds on one window (far away from both of the vampires) to calm her girlfriend down. Then she said something that might have been a spell, but more likely was some kind of ancient swear word based on the way she said it. Closing the blinds hurriedly, she turned around, eyes wide. "Well, I'm not usually Decisive Girl, and I think you all know how much I hate Faith with every fiber of my being, but – we better get her quickly, because there's a large crowd of armed men out there and something tells me they're not the welcome wagon..."


	12. Interlude

_A Spark of Love_

(Interlude)

* * *

><p><em>Previously: <em>Cordelia has a vision about the Knights of Byzantium coming. After a discussion, Buffy decides it's best to recruit Faith as a distraction and extra firepower.

* * *

><p>Every damn day was the same. That was the worst thing about prison. Life wasn't a box of chocolates. You knew exactly what you were gonna get: crappy food, people who hated their job working with you as much as you hated being locked up, some bitch trying to shank you because you're too tough or too hot or too snotty or whatever the hell their new problem was with her. Like she gave a rat's ass what they thought. She could break out anytime she wanted, but Angel would be all "disappointed' in her or whatever. And Buffy'd probably stab her again.<p>

The blonde who hated her – not Buffy, although there was a certain resemblance, but the blonde guard whose lip always curled when Faith came into her field of vision – told her she had a visitor. _Angel, has to be_. Nobody else ever came to see her. And why would they?

But when she sat down to that ugly phone, it wasn't Angel at all. It was Queen B herself. If Faith had ever been cautious in her life, she would have been when she picked up that phone. "Sup, B?"

"Faith," the other Slayer said calmly. She hated that tone, all patronizing and holier-than-thou. Saint Buffy, come to judge the simple sinners in prison.

She looked kind of rough, though, dark circles under her eyes. She looked tired, world-weary, not like the perky, preppy cheerleader type of yesteryear. "What's eating you? Got another vamp crawling after you or something?"

Buffy flushed at that. Huh. "_You're_ eating me."

She tried not to smirk. "Okay, B, spill. I've been locked up pretty tight, so I don't really see how I could have been interfering with you and yours."

She sighed, that familiar, heavy, weight-of-the-world sigh. It used to piss Faith off so much, like, we're superheroes, why does everything have to be so serious? But now she kind of got it. Not that she'd tell Buffy that. "There's a hellgod after us. She's strong. Stronger than either one of us. And I really hate this, but…"

"You need my help."

_Tie me up and call me Sally_. The look on Buffy's face definitely confirmed her suspicions. Things had gotten that sucky in Slayerland that the wayward resident ex-bad girl herself was being called on.

She almost wanted to call her out on it, make her feel bad. But that wasn't who she was trying to be anymore. Maybe someday she'd get to where she didn't give a damn what Buffy thought of her or how perfect Buffy's life was or anything about Buffy. She wasn't there yet, but she could act like it, anyway. "Gotcha. Guess I do owe you one."

"So we need to break you out, right?" Buffy leaned in, conspiratorially. Faith found herself copying the gesture, reliving the good old days. Or whatever.

"Psh. I can get out of here any time I want, blondie," Faith scoffed.

The other Slayer didn't hide her surprise. "So what's keeping you in there?"

"I dunno," she said, shrugging. "Guess I kind of get off on the whole captive thing. I mean, barbed wire, armed guards? I'm just kinky like that."

Too bad Buffy hadn't grown a sense of humor, judging by the unamused look on her face. Faith sighed.

"Come on, B. Hasn't Angel given you the whole spiel? Changed woman, with all the baggage that comes with it. Following the letter of the law, and the law says I should be locked up. Of course, if something comes up that's more important than the law, then that's my prerogative as a Slayer, right?"

"So you're saying you can get out right now," Buffy said, not being too subtle about the whole topic change. "This is a 'step away from the glass' kind of situation."

"Took the words right of my mouth," Faith muttered to herself as Buffy hung the phone up gently and backed away from the window. The other Slayer was watching her skeptically, critically. Like the overbearing mother she'd never had – or wanted, for that matter.

Sad thing was, she could actually believe that she'd changed when it was just her and Lucy the guard and the lunchladies and every once in a while Angel coming to visit. But now, with Buffy here, it was like falling back into old rhythms, slipping into her old role. There was no place for New Faith here. Buffy wanted the killer.

Well, hell with it. That's what she'd get.

Faith took a flying leap at the glass, rolling to avoid most of the sharp pieces. Chaos was probably beginning to erupt, but Buffy was already walking ahead and there was nothing to do but follow her like a faithful dog.

* * *

><p>"So this Faith," Spike said, rolling the name around in his mouth. "What's she like? I only met her the one time...damn memorable, though."<p>

"Well, the last time I conversed with her, I was tied to a chair while she tortured me with broken glass," Watcher Junior said stoically. "I would not describe myself as fond of her."

_Hm. Wonder where she picked up those torturing tricks. _A rare Slayer who ever bothered with things like that, even if she was crazy. "I suppose after what she did to Buffy, body-switching and all, you two could have some nice little bonding over your shared hatred."

"Could you tell it wasn't Buffy when you met her?" Wesley asked curiously, craning his neck for any sight of the two Slayers.

"Eh, vampire senses aren't much good for that sort of thing – more how much is her blood pounding and all that, which is physical, would be the same as Buffy. I knew she…wasn't right, but I just figured it was another spell gone wrong."

He looked over his glasses, and if Rupert hadn't been alive Spike would have sworn his ghost was hovering in the air at that gesture. "_Another_ spell gone wrong?"

Oh, what the hell. No skin off his nose if the Watcher wanted to interrogate him. "A year or so ago, Red – Willow – she cast a spell that went all sorts of wonky. Demons chasing the boy, old Rupes went blind – Buffy and I got engaged, so that bit wasn't too bad."

Head Boy goggled at him. Like he was a bloody jigsaw puzzle, and it made him damn uncomfortable. He was about to snap back with something edging on rude when he caught the Slayer's scent on the air through the top of the blacked-out window. "She's coming," he said, barely aware that he was even talking.

Half a tick and she was pulling the door open. A brunette – gorgeous and angry-looking – slid in first, followed by a breathless Buffy. _God, she is beautiful._ "We need to go," she said, glancing at the window like the guards were right behind them. Spike chuckled to himself. Nasty surprise for the guard, if so, coming up against a car full of superpowered entities. A vampire, two Slayers, and he suspected the Watcher had a few magic tricks up his sleeve. Not a pretty crowd to come across.

Wes floored it.


	13. The End, pt 1

A Spark of Love

_The End, pt 1_

* * *

><p><em>Previously: <em>Buffy breaks Faith out of prison.

* * *

><p>"The night is darkest before the dawn". One of her mom's favorite dumb parenting-book clichés. They'd always laughed about it – what a funny coincidence for her to use that phrase, when her second daughter's name was Dawn.<p>

Except it wasn't a coincidence. Dawn wasn't really her daughter, and maybe Mom had never said that in the first place. Or maybe she had, but just completely honestly, with no knowing smile as she looked over at the brunette who didn't really exist.

But she did exist, and even if she wasn't her sister by birth, Buffy loved her. And she couldn't let this happen to her, or to the world.

She took a deep breath. The tingles on the back of her neck were getting stronger and stronger, until a black-and-white flash flew past her. Before she registered what – who it was, the tingles were fading and she was already airborne, diving after him into a hell pit.

_How did we get here? _she struggled to remember in those last few moments of clarity before everything went black.

* * *

><p><em>Hours earlier…<em>

That familiar feeling had come over her – a weird mix of determination, fear, and straight-up ickiness. The feeling she got before every apocalypse.

This one should be easy, right? Just keep Dawn away from the big baddies who wanted to kill her, or worse, use her blood to open a portal, end the world, blah blah blah. She had slayed (slain? slew?) the granddaddy vampire when she was 16, killed her own lover to save the world, destroyed a giant snake-thing that used to be the mayor of her town, stabbed her sister Slayer, and fought against the military and the atrocities it had created. Should be a piece of cake. She had all the cards, or chess pieces or whatever: witches, Slayers, vampires, you name it.

But she was scared.

"Okay, so, with me: Spike, Willow, Wesley, Xander – "

Anya's grip visibly tightened on his arm. He brushed his fingers lightly against her shoulder, not breaking Buffy's gaze. One pang later, she quickly added, "Anya, and Dawn."

Switching her gaze to meet Angel's, she continued, "Faith and Angel will take Tara, Giles, Cordelia, and Gunn."

"We'll take care of her," Cordelia said quietly to Willow. The other woman nodded, looking away.

"So we're drawing the heat off?" Faith asked, leaning back comfortably. "So you can – I'm guessing here, because you can't tell the 'dangerous criminal' anything – protect some mystical piece of junk that can cause the end of the world."

Her liberal use of air quotes really pissed Buffy off, for no real reason other than everything about Faith pissed Buffy off.

"That's pretty much it, yeah," Spike answered, chuckling.

Something hot flared up in her stomach and she found herself glaring at him. He met her eyes, looking something like amused.

_God, what a jerk_.

Buffy cleared her throat and tried to clear her mind too. Not really as easy. "Angel, do you have a place to take them?" she asked pointedly.

"Uh…yeah. I know a place."

Cordelia, Wes, and Gunn – the members of Team Angel or whatever they were calling themselves – looked at him. Cordelia, always expressive, raised her eyebrows almost to her hairline. "You don't mean-"

"Wolfram and Hart," Wes said, finishing the thought.

_What the hell is that? Wolfy and heart? Sounds like some dumb 80s pop duo._

"Wait, remind me why this is even a good idea," Gunn spoke up, obviously striving for "reasonable" but crossing a little bit into "panicked". "We've already got an army and a god after us, so you think by pissing off the evil law firm again that's somehow gonna make things _better_?"

Oh, the heavy Angel sigh. _I totally missed hearing that_, Buffy thought wryly.

"An evil law firm?" Xander repeated. "Isn't that kind of…I don't know, redundant?"

Anya sat up a little straighter. "They're actually evil, honey. Like not just take-your-valuable-money evil – more like sacrifice-your-organs evil. I had some dealings with them back in the day. Ver-ry nasty."

"This does seem rather, er…rash, Angel." Giles looked at Buffy warningly. "Rash and unwise."

She didn't know what she was going to say, exactly – honestly, after all of the crap that had happened between them since he left Sunnydale, she didn't have the greatest faith in Angel's decisions. Pun totally intended.

But before she could even open her mouth, the other Slayer jumped into the conversation. "Hey, calm down, old man. Angel knows what he's doing. Besides," she said, shrugging, "worst comes to worst, I can kick all their asses."

_I'll never get used to hearing her defend someone_.

Almost unconsciously, she let her eyes drift back to Spike's. She must have looked as weird as she felt, because he cocked his head in that familiar way and raised an eyebrow, as if to say, _You gonna go with it?_

"Fine," Buffy relented, feeling a rush of relief as soon as she spoke. "I trust you."

* * *

><p>She didn't like battles like this. Putting other people's lives on the line, fighting innumerable and unbeatable foes, having to trust <em>Faith<em>…

No.

"Slow down, pet," Spike said softly, suddenly behind her.

It was a little worrying that his presence didn't even make her flinch any more. The tinglies at her neck were familiar, almost comforting. Reliable Spike-tinglies.

And, okay, they weren't the only tinglies going on, either.

_I don't want to slow down_.

"Love, you can't protect the rest of the team just by outrunnin' them."

"Screw you," she replied automatically, not compromising her speed.

He chuckled. "Maybe later, if we've got the time. But for now, just slow those pretty legs down, Harris is about to have a coronary trying to keep up."

Buffy reluctantly glanced back. Yeah, her friends were Struggle City – and poor Wesley, though in much better shape than he was the last she saw him, seemed to still be limping from a recent injury. Taking a deep breath, she slowed her pace. "Happy now, Spike?" she asked, infusing her voice with as much snark as possible.

No response.

"Spike?" She turned her head just to see he'd fallen behind and seemed to be chatting animatedly with Dawn. Comforting her, in his way.

Well, someone should do it. As much as she wanted to hold her sister, brush the hair from her eyes, and promise her that everything was okay, that was a luxury right now that she couldn't afford. She had to be the one making sure that promise came true.

They'd decided it would only be more suspicious if the group protecting Dawn directly stayed at the hotel, so they were trekking on foot to Wesley's apartment. As dusk had just fallen, it was safe for Spike to not get all flamey, but they were getting weird looks, all right. _Nobody walks in LA_, Buffy thought wryly. She remembered.

"This is it," Wesley said after what seemed like hours alone with her thoughts. The ex-Watcher was walking briskly, nearly catching up to her.

"It'll do," she replied after a quick evaluation of the exits. Not ideal, maybe, but this was unfamiliar territory.

"Should I try to cover the whole building or just the apartment?" Willow wondered, out of breath.

Anya frowned and continued to walk. "There is no need to expend extra energy on the rest of the building."

"But…if you don't," Dawn ventured quietly. "Will people get...hurt? Because of…"

She looked up at Buffy, and Buffy felt her cold-hard-war-general façade slip. She allowed her fingers to ghost over her sister's skin. "If they come after us, we'll have to evacuate either way. This area…it's indefensible. But having a spell on the apartment could buy us time."

The group began to follow Wesley inside, but an arm caught Buffy before she could enter. She turned to look at Spike. "What is it now?" she asked, cringing at the tiredness in her voice.

"Buffy," he said, with a tenderness she didn't have time for. He brushed back a tendril of hair that had escaped her ponytail. She tried to look past him, not get caught in the stupidly dizzying depths of his eyes. _Damn his eyes_.

"You're not a general, pet. I know you're just doing what you think is best, but, love…cutting yourself off isn't the answer."

"Spike, I…I just lost my mom. I can't lose anybody else."

"And you won't," he replied smoothly.

The situation was so ridiculous she almost laughed. Here she was, with a vampire she could have sworn she hated months ago, on the verge of tears because she was doing her best to protect a sister who had been a ball of energy not a year ago. Buffy felt an almost-hysterical laugh choking up.

* * *

><p>"What's so funny, sweet?" he asked her. He knew that wasn't a good laugh – had heard as much from Dru often enough. Buffy was on the damn verge, and nobody else seemed to notice, or at least if they did, they weren't doing anything about it.<p>

This woman he loved, struggling to wipe away her tears with her sleeve…God, but he'd never seen someone so beautiful. "Shh, love," he said, certain that he was barely audible. "It'll be alright."

Spike put his arms around her, hoping to calm this sudden wave. She resisted at first, but after a second she relaxed into the embrace, draping her arms loosely over him. He pressed a kiss to her forehead.

"Well, isn't this just precious."

A woman stood before them; tall, pretty, human. Had a nasty black eye and some still-bleeding cuts on her arm, exposed by her skimpy blouse. She walked little closer to them, away from her black convertible parked at the curb.

"The hell are you?" Spike growled as Buffy extracted herself from his arms. _If this is another of Angelus's girls_…

"I came to bring a message to Wesley, from Angel." She gave Buffy an appraising glance, ignoring Spike entirely. "I guess you were the other tiny blonde."

"The other?" she repeated.

The woman shrugged. "I was kind of fond of Darla myself."

Spike was getting right tired of hearing about that bitch. Couldn't anyone stay dead anymore?

Buffy tensed. "How did you know Darla?"

"_Do_ I know Darla," she corrected, tossing back her brown hair. "As far as I know, she's still out there."

"Angel staked her years ago." Buffy's voice trembled a little.

The woman raised her eyebrows. "Hoo, we _are_ out of the loop. Wesley inside?"

"We'll take you there," Buffy said. Spike took the rear, not trusting this bint as far as she could throw Angelus, the fat lug.

Buffy went immediately to Dawn before the woman could step into the doorway. Wesley's eyes widened, and he instinctively picked up the nearby crossbow and aimed it. _Pointless, really_, what with the Slayer there all poised for action. She could chop the bitch's head off before Wesley's finger could so much as twitch, and Spike (he thought with pride) could do the same if not for the bloody chip. "Lilah."

"_Relax_, will you?" Lilah drawled, striding into the room. "Not here to harm your precious cargo."

Wesley glanced at Willow. "I thought you had finished the incantation."

"I did!" she insisted, gesturing at the incense. _Worst part of magic, that smell. Clogs up a vamp's senses like nothing else_. Spike sniffed in disgust.

"Well, clearly it was not effective," Wesley muttered, returning his gaze to Lilah. "She got in."

"It only weeds out people who are intending to hurt Daw – you know," Willow added hurriedly.

Lilah stretched out her arms carelessly. "See? Telling the truth."

"So, uh, why are you here, then? Seeing as you seem to be pretty evilish," Xander remarked, crossing his arms.

She made a scoffing sound. "Evil, sure. Want the world to be destroyed? Not so much. Angel led the Knights and Glory to our doorstep – I'm guessing that was your plan? Cute – but I think he underestimated them. They're not going to last long, and I'll be surprised if _someone_ doesn't tip her off that you're not there. In fact, torture one of your little buddies hard enough and they might just squeal as to where you're hiding her."

_Her? So she knows_. Spike swallowed. God, he wished he could still kill humans, if only so he could rip her throat out. Made sense what she said about being evil and such. He remembered feeling exactly that way before he even fell in love with Buffy. "That how you got those scratches?" he asked, nodding to her arms.

Lilah laughed freely. "These? No, these were a gift from Angel."

Well, if Angel hated her so much, maybe it was a good thing Spike had to let her live.

"Is everyone okay?" Niblet asked quietly, looking as small and scared as could be. Buffy's grip tightened around her arm.

"For now," Lilah said indifferently. "Or…they were when I left. Might be shreds by now."

Spike's neck tingled – he turned, and saw Red looking like she was about to burst a fuse. Or maybe, all the fuses in the bloody apartment. The slightest change in the magical balance had him shivering and dying all over again to get the hell away. Buffy's eyes widened at Will, a warning - so she'd obviously felt the same thing. Bloody mystical convergences and witches and…god, he'd never signed up for that. Mayhem, blood, death, that was a piece of Christmas pie, but he didn't screw around with magic.

"How do we know this isn't a trap?" Wesley asked all matter-of-factly. _Can smell his fear, though_, _and from the looks of it so can this nattering bint._

"Well, that'd be pretty pointless," Anya put in. "Seeing as we'll all probably die horribly anyway."

"Take me to them."

All eyes turned, surprised, to Buffy. Except his.

_Of course she'd want to fly in and save the wanker, _he thought bitterly, face wrinkling with disgust and nearly going bumpy just thinking about it. He didn't even want to look at her.

But he did, of course. _Like bleedin' always_. Suddenly stared at her, let her know he was right angry. Maybe it was petty, in a life or death and what all, but some stupid part of him was screaming at him that her real loyalties were coming out now.

Her eyes told a different story, and when they met his, he immediately felt abashed for his thoughts a moment before. She was seeing the bigger picture, like she always did. Like the bloody hero she was – and he meant that in both senses, because some tingly feeling on his neck told him this wouldn't end without a hell of a lot of bloodshed. Tangles with hell gods rarely did.

He cleared his throat slightly and intentionally softened his eyes to let her know, _I can take care of things here_. She gave him a curt nod, not quite forgiving but not condemning, and without another word she turned around and strode out of the room. Her severe expression was even enough to cow Lilah, who followed her with only a quick protest.

Spike didn't speak until the sound of her footsteps had completely faded away. Red was already looking around, evaluating the room. _Better nip that in the bud_, he thought. Chit had a good head on her shoulders, but she had a tendency to let her emotions and thirst for power get ahead of her reason. Besides, he needed the freedom to carry out the plan he was cooking up.

"All right, you lot," he said in what he hoped was a good, leader-y sort of tone. Not like he'd had any practice; years under Angel and Darla, and then off with Dru – well, he'd never kidded himself and believed he was captain of that ship. And in life…the less thought about that, the better. "Can you run and tighten up the defenses in this dump?"

* * *

><p>She wanted to blame Faith for this. Or Angel, for supporting the other Slayer, or Spike, for softening her enough to agree to this damn plan. She wanted to blame <em>anyone<em> for this, even if it was herself. And she didn't even know what "this" was yet.

Lilah had fallen behind after pointing the way, which Buffy had half expected. Whatever. _She was only slowing me down_.

Plus, if it was a trap, it wasn't likely that Lilah would just disappear like that, right? She wouldn't be in any danger from her own people. The lawyer was tucking her tail between her legs and running from Glory, that was the only thing that made sense. Unless she was doing it to throw Buffy off her trail…ugh, this was impossible. Trap or not, she was screwed either way.

Yeah, there was the sign – "Wolfram and Hart". Still a weird name. She ran past it and to the front door, steeled herself, and busted in with more bravado than she was close to feeling.

It was eerily quiet inside, and Buffy was suddenly reminded of her sophomore year when she'd faced the Master. She'd been so young then, and so sure of herself. Ready to face death – even ready to embrace it.

Funny, how different she felt now. Two (un)dead boyfriends and a fake sister later, and she had more drive to stay alive than she ever remembered having before. Far removed from that girl she'd been with Angel, telling him that when he kissed her he made her want to die. If she was being honest, kissing Spike only made her more glad she was alive.

But now was not the time to ruminate (_see, Giles, I still remember some of those SAT words_) on the relative merits of Spike and Angel. She had to make sure that she hadn't gotten more people killed.

The place was a wreck, but there were no dead bodies that she could see. Buffy walked forward carefully, eyeing all of the dark corners for any trace of a certain blonde bitch from below. The office was too open; it seemed to stretch on forever.

She sensed more than saw a movement to her left, and immediately sprung into position. It wasn't Glory she was pointing her crossbow at – in fact, it wasn't somebody she recognized at all. The man staggered forward, his expensive suit marred by blood that might have been his. His eyes were dark and shallow, like he couldn't see beyond his own eyelashes.

Buffy knew that look. _Tara_.

Glory had definitely been here.

"Where is she?" she asked, not removing the crossbow. She felt sick at the idea of taking a human life, especially from a man who barely possessed his own consciousness. He didn't notice the threat, and continued to slowly approach her.

"The glimmer…she was to find it," he babbled. "Seeking knowledge, but…those wily foxes, they hid from the goddess! Can…can you imagine, imagine that…impudence…so bright…" His hand reached forward, grasping at something only he could see. She flinched, but lowered the bow.

The man wandered off, still repeating "so bright". Buffy gritted her teeth and continued, taking the stairs to the next floor.

Unfortunately, it was immediately evident that there had been casualties. These offices were well-lit, illuminating the corpses slumped over desks or sprawled on the floor. Giles would have said they were necessary sacrifices in this great war. Angel would have reminded her that these were bad people, barely deserving of the name "human". Spike probably wouldn't have cared at all.

But Dawn would have cried for them, and that knowledge was what Buffy treasured. Maybe, in some way, it could be worth it, if she could save this innocent. If she could save her sister, who would cry even for these people who would have turned her over to Glory in a second. That was what Buffy needed right then – not the strength of the general she was struggling to be, but the compassion of the innocent she'd once been.

She couldn't cry for them, but she would make damn sure that Dawn would live to.

None of the bodies looked familiar, although some of them were piled up in a way that made it hard to tell. She willed herself not to examine them. She was here to look for survivors, and to find out if Glory knew where they were.

"Hey, B," said one of the corpses. She did a double-take.

Faith pushed the bodies off of her own blood-smeared form and stood up, stretching dramatically. "Figured you'd be scurrying over here soon enough."

"You're alive," Buffy found herself saying. _Of all the people to make it out, it had to be Faith. Of course. She probably killed those guys herself, to save her own ass. _

"Disappointed?" the other Slayer asked pointedly, cocking her head in that annoying gesture that reminded Buffy too much of Spike. She hated it on both of them, for the record. "Don't worry, it's not just you and me. Glory's minions aren't too smart, and she's too busy being batshit to check all the stiffs in the corners. We mostly all hid. Not really my cup of tea, but hey, I lived to see another fight."

Buffy furrowed her brow. "Mostly?"

"Well, we couldn't get Tara to do much of anything, and Angel elected himself as the distraction. The rest should be around here somewhere. You sure _she's _gone?"

"Not positive."

"Better keep it sneaky, then."

They didn't have to go far – as soon as they reached the hall, a rough-looking Gunn exited the office across from them. "Thought I heard y'all," he said, smiling warmly.

Faith grinned back. "Should be more careful, champ, we could have been Glory."

"I think I'd know her dulcet tones anywhere after hearing her screech at her minions from outside that door," Gunn replied. "I was getting itchy from sitting around, anyway."

They found Giles five minutes later. His glasses were broken, but he was none the worse for wear. "At least I don't have a concussion," he grumbled, brushing himself off. "Glad to see all of you made it."

Buffy hugged him, thanking whatever deity might exist for her Watcher's survival. _We have our disagreements, but without Giles, I don't know what – _

Her thoughts were interrupted by an insistent banging that seemed to be coming from within the closet. When Gunn opened it, Cordelia nearly fell on top of him. "Oh, thank God," she breathed, pushing her hair back with one hand. "I thought I was going to suffocate in there while you guys had your bonding time. Where's Angel?"

Giles looked at his broken glasses mournfully. "Well, er, when we discussed this beforehand, he was determined to draw the fire away from us as well as from Dawn."

"That idiot," Cordelia moaned. "He's going to get himself re-killed. Or re-re-killed, depending on how you count that little all-expense-paid trip to hell. Ugh, I should have known that he was going to have a hero seizure when he wouldn't tell me the plan."

"And Tara…"

"I think Glory took her," Gunn commented, frowning. "From what I could hear and make sense of, anyway."

Buffy froze. "Glory _took_ her?"

"I'm sure she didn't kill her or anything," Cordelia reassured Buffy. "I mean, if she was going to do that, she would have done it before, right?"

"No, that's not it. She- all of the people whose minds were sucked by Glory, they have like this sixth sense and they recognize Dawn."

"Wait, back up. Dawn?" Faith repeated.

Buffy barely even registered the question or its importance.

_Tara was there when we made the plans. If any part of her is still –_

"Oh, no."

* * *

><p>Willow pushed through the front door with some frustration. She was being ridiculous and she knew it, but she felt rather entitled to a little temper tantrum. <em>I mean, Spike? Really?<em> She blew air out of her mouth and leaned against the wall.

She'd put up with whatever was going on with Buffy and Spike in her best best-friend way. That was fine. Whatever, he could make out with her. It wasn't like it was the first time that Buffy had had a vampire boyfriend, and she kinda liked Spike better, if just because he'd never murdered her fish. Or her teacher. Anyway, Willow was totally on board the Spike train! Until he came in and decided he could start bossing them around, like he'd been a white hat forever, when the last time she checked he'd still been half-heartedly trying to murder them last semester.

It didn't help that she was worried about Tara. She trusted Giles and Angel. Heck, she was even willing to admit that she liked and trusted Cordy – maybe that was a case of absence making the heart grow fonder, or maybe it was leftover sorry-I-kissed-your-boyfriend-and-then-you-almost-died guilt. Gunn seemed trustworthy, too, and there had been some sort of look in his eyes that told her he would never betray someone's secrets. Like, he'd been there. But Willow trusted Faith about as far as rat!Amy could throw her.

If she could just see her, to make sure that she was okay and get all of these awful images out of her head. Willow imagined her light hair bouncing ever-so-slightly as she walked along, her wide eyes taking in everything around her, her feet treading softly on the pavement…

Wait. This wasn't her imagination. Tara really was there, in the flesh. "Tara!"

Her love met her eyes. She still felt a jolt, despite the dazed, lost look that had made Tara's eyes its home since Glory hurt her. "Tara, you're really here," she said, taking her hand. "How did you…"

Tara was embracing her, sobbing and hiccupping into her shoulder. "So…bright."

"Shh, baby, it's okay," Willow soothed, brushing a hand over her hair. "Shh."

Without a second thought, Willow squeezed her hand and gently led her inside. She didn't notice the woman who'd been watching them, half-concealed, from across the street.

Glory's lip curled. "Perfect," she whispered to herself. Things were finally shaping up.


	14. The End, pt 2

A Spark of Love

_The End, pt 2_

* * *

><p><em>Previously: <em>Lilah warns the group at the apartments that Glory has caused massive damage at Wolfram and Hart, where Angel's group was stationed. Buffy goes to W&H to assess the situation. Spike has a plan. Gunn reveals that Glory took Tara with her – and Tara at least subconsciously knows where to find the others and is drawn to the Key. At the apartment, Willow unknowingly lets Tara in, giving Glory confirmation on their location.

* * *

><p>He'd bought his time, all right. It had taken a hell of a lot to convince the Scoobies to leave him alone with the Bit, but he'd only needed a few minutes to tell her about it and give her what she needed.<p>

"Are you sure it'll work?" she asked, sitting there on the couch and looking much younger than her fifteen years.

_No. _"'Course it will," he said confidently.

At that moment, he didn't know how long he'd live. But he knew that instant would be imprinted on his brain until the moment he lost consciousness for good. The boy was in the other room, nailing boards to the windows. His girl was there too, watching him. Wesley was noisily rummaging through a trunk of weapons. Willow burst in, Glinda at her side. "Look who I found!" she announced proudly.

The others all rushed into the room, full of excitement and similar human emotions. _Not like I'm not happy for them, but how am I supposed to bloody concentrate on that when Buffy could be –_

Then he wasn't thinking at all, just acting on instinct. The memories from this point on registered as mere flashes, brief snapshots of movement and perception.

There was an awful crash that seemed to go right through his nonexistent soul.

The blonde hair, the red dress. Glory. She laughed, at their mortal stupidity or what all.

The army, the bloody army. Bursting in the doors right behind her. Clang of swords.

Yelling at the humans to go, go, go.

Wondering, in one split-second as the boy and Anya tried to climb out the window, when he started to care so much.

Wes had a battle-axe, and must have given him one too.

Turned out that decapitating a human gave him the same amount of mind-numbing pain as punching one.

Dawn screamed.

He threw himself deeper into the fray.

When he came to - not sure if he'd passed out or just blacked out from the sheer exhaustion, adrenaline, and pain - Buffy was there and Dawn was gone. Dawn was…

* * *

><p>She knew she'd be too late. Glory had…not won, (not yet), but she had succeeded. Stolen Dawn away right out from under all of their noses.<p>

Willow was still there, in tears and cradling Tara in her arms. _At least the army went back after Glory_, Buffy thought grimly, _o__r I might not have had anyone to come back to. _Remnants of magic still hung in the air, prickling her arms and reminding her of how Willow had survived. From the looks of it, she'd also used her magic to clean up the bodies left behind – there was far too much blood for all of the knights to have made it.

She didn't want to know how many of them Spike had killed.

Xander and Anya had left. She hoped that they were safe and had found their way back to the hotel, but there was no way of knowing now.

Wesley was wounded, badly cut and limping. He seemed almost unfazed, however, and more concerned about Dawn. "I've had worse."

_He's had worse? What has Angel been getting them into?_

Spike was…well, Spike was still there, if you could call it that. Present physically, at least.

She'd never seen him look as wild as when she first came back. It reminded her of the way Angel had been after he came back from hell. He didn't attack her, but he stared madly through her like another soldier would be coming right up behind her. Even when he seemed to calm, still trembling, he didn't lose his vampface.

It broke her heart more than it should have. If Spike stayed like this…feral from the pain and the trauma forever…

Not that their "forever" would be long if she didn't get to Dawn. She sighed, and addressed the rag-tag team still with her. All broken, in a way, and all because of her. Because she had to get them involved in this. Because she couldn't handle her job.

_But there's no turning back now._

"Can you all make it back to the hotel?" she asked. "Call a cab or something – Glory won't be after you. I just need you to be safe."

"What are you gonna do?" asked Willow, still sniffling a little.

"Angel can't be far away, he was distracting Glory once she reached Wolfram and Hart. If I can't find him, I'll take Faith with me. I think that's all we can do – a direct attack."

"Buffy," Wes protested. "I understand that Faith and Angel are superpowered individuals, but you still need _numbers_. You have many fighters at your disposal – you shouldn't waste them!"

_I just don't want to lose anyone else,_ she thought, eyes drifting over to Spike and Tara. Wesley was right, though. She had to make the tough calls, had to put people on the line to save humanity or whatever.

That was who she was.

"I still want you to go to the hotel. If Faith is there, or Angel, tell them to meet me here. We'll be the first wave, and you can be the second. I think I know where Glory is."

"How?"

Buffy pointed out the window. "Just follow the bodies."

* * *

><p>Minutes after they left, the phone rang. <em>Oh, duh! The phone! I could have called the hotel…well, if I knew the number<em>. "Hello?"

"Buffy, hi, I'm glad you're there," Cordy said, sounding out-of-breath. "Is Spike with you?"

"No, he's with the others. They're on the way to the hotel. Why?"

"I kind of had a vision. It was of him…I couldn't really see too well, but he was definitely biting someone. I know this really isn't the time, but the Powers wouldn't have sent this to me if it wasn't important. Maybe someone should be keeping an eye on him."

"There's no way he's in a condition to bite anyone right now. When I came back…he was basically catatonic. I practically had to carry him to the cab and make sure he didn't burst into flames. I think he fought the knights, even though it set off his chip." She suddenly felt the need to swallow, and felt tears beginning to gather. "Maybe it was a mix-up."

"Maybe…" Cordelia said, not sounding convinced. "Okay, I'll let you go slay the Big Evil now or whatever."

"No, wait! Is Angel there? Or Faith?"

She sighed. "No, I think they're on their way to you. I hope that's what you wanted."

"It is." _At least one thing is going right. And…Angel's okay, I guess._

"And Xander and Anya are safe."

"Good."

"So the rest of us are just…"

"We'll need a second wave of the battle. But, Cordy, if you're not up to the fighting, I totally-"

She was interrupted by Cordelia's loud "_please!_". "Come on, Buffy, you really think I'll sit this one out? I'm all for not getting killed, but it's a little late to back out of this now. Vampires, demons, that's been part of my life for like five years now. I'm basically a veteran."

And, having nothing to say to that, Buffy hung up.

* * *

><p>When he came to himself again, he was alone. Squinting at his surroundings, Spike struggled to remember where he was, exactly.<p>

_LA. I know that. It's a hotel…Angel's hotel. The Hyperion. But how…_

Last he remembered was Buffy saying something about bodies. She'd been there at the apartment, and Dawn had been taken.

She'd gone after Glory, she must have. He'd bet his barely-functioning brain on it. If he knew her at all, she'd be itching to tackle the Big Bad.

Just like he was now, headache or no.

Did she go alone? Where was everyone else?

_Think, Spike, think_. The others could be dead, but Willow had definitely survived, he'd seen that. He couldn't have gotten here on his own, either. Someone had helped him. "Willow?" he called. "Red?"

No reply. "Anyone?"

Would Buffy have let them all go? It was them or the fate of the world. Hero types had to prioritize in those situations. So they should be there with her.

Wherever _there_ was.

"Follow the bodies," that's what she'd said. Good advice, to someone coming from the apartments, but here he was stuck up at the hotel.

He took a deep breath and sighed. Paused.

_Oh, you bloody idiot. You're a buggering vampire, aren't you? Follow a scent!_

There were a lot of smells there, but none so pungent as that of his dear grandsire. He knew Angel like the back of his hand (_damn, the polish all chipped off in the fight_) – he'd be right there with Buffy, hogging up all the glory with his great heroicness.

Follow Angel, find Buffy. Easy.

Or it would be, if his head didn't feel like it was going to explode.

Still, he stumbled out into the street and began tracking. Thank a non-hell deity, night had fallen. _I'm coming for you,_ he thought confidently, even as he was pretty sure he could also smell the colors of people's shirts.

Good thing he'd had a back-up plan.

* * *

><p>Buffy hadn't been able to appreciate the sheer numbers of the Knights until she had to pick her way through back alleys full of their corpses. In the nicer areas, police had blocked off access – some concerned neighbor must have called the deaths in. Thankfully, Angel knew all the shortcuts.<p>

"You've really become a regular native," she commented. _And I seem to have forgotten everything I knew about LA. _In her defense, it had been a while, and she'd never ventured to this part of the city. Even the familiar parts of the city seemed distant, though, like she remembered them from a partially-forgotten dream.

He shrugged. "I've done plenty of time here."

"But not literally, like me," Faith joked, in a low, flirty tone that would have outraged Buffy two years ago. "Gotta say, the city is prettier on TV."

A few minutes later, they stopped. _It's been too long since the last body – either we lost the trail, we ran out of knights, or she's around here somewhere. _"What are we looking for, exactly?" Angel asked. "Buffy, you've been dealing with her for a long time. Where would she be?"

"She likes…fancy places. Or what she thinks are fancy, anyway. She wants to feel pampered, I guess. But she tends to pick empty places where nobody can bother her, and things that are kind of high up."

Angel snapped his fingers. "I know just the place. Come on."

It was a large, Victorian mansion. Once extravagant, it was now abandoned, and stood imposing against the street. Buffy could see a small balcony opening on the side of the third floor.

Best of all, she could also see one of Glory's hobbit-y minions shaking out a rug from a second-floor window. "Bingo," she breathed.

"So what's the plan, blondie?" Faith asked, gazing up at the building.

"Would it be cliché to say 'charge'?"

* * *

><p>"This would be easier if the Powers had sent me a vision of Glory's hideout," Cordelia groused, glaring up at the sky as if she could directly punish the unseen forces controlling fate and destiny with simply a look.<p>

_If anybody could, it would be her_, Giles allowed.

He was rather impressed with Angel's team in spite of himself. Gunn seemed to be quite a capable young man, determined but not reckless. Wesley had matured, and was evidently a valuable asset to the team in both research and combat. Cordelia had perhaps changed most of all, and despite her complaints, her duties as a Seer spoke more to her character than any assessment he could provide. They were certainly better off with Angel's team at their side, although he worried that it still would not be enough.

By the time they arrived – assuming they found the place at all – the two Slayers and remaining functional vampire should have already made their way to Glory. The second wave's job was to remove the minions and protect Dawn.

Or, rather, protect the world through Dawn. Giles had his own thoughts on the matter. If Glory was, as she seemed, unstoppable, it might be best to end her plan before the ritual could begin. He knew that Buffy would oppose him entirely, and perhaps she would never forgive him, but the continued life of his Slayer and the people she had sworn to protect were more important than his personal relationships.

It was for the best that Spike was unable to take part in the battle. While his combat skills would be useful, Giles had no doubt that he would take Buffy's side and do everything in his power to keep Dawn alive. Angel, on the other hand, could be persuaded.

He had hoped to have time to prepare a poison, so that in case the worst occurred Dawn could go in peace and dignity. Unfortunately, in the urgent rush from Sunnydale to Los Angeles and then from building to building there, he had not been able to do so. His preparation had amounted to a simple dagger in his pocket. His fingers closed around the knife as he reminded himself of his resolve.

_For the greater good_…

* * *

><p>Spike could hear the group talking, another reassurance that he was on the right track. He hesitated, wondering if he should be more tactical. <em>If I wait for them to get there, I could slip in unnoticed. Get to Dawn more easily in all the confusion.<em>

_That is, if she's still alive_.

Glory needed her blood, but how long would that take? What if she had already taken what she needed? He couldn't risk it.

He broke into a run just as he heard Tara cry out, "The light! It's growing brighter!"

_Let me get there in time…_

* * *

><p>She'd wondered about death before, especially after she found out she was the Key. She'd grown up around Buffy, after all, who slayed and slaughtered every night like it was her hobby. Like it was…bowling. Death bowling.<p>

_Okay, this whole life-or-death situation thing is starting to get to me_.

Anyway, she'd never pictured herself going like this. Tied to a chair facing some vanity in an abandoned mansion, waiting to be used in a blood sacrifice. What a way to die.

Unless, of course, Buffy came to save her. Or…

She heard the door open behind her, and her eyes immediately went to the mirror to find who it was. She saw no reflection.

"Spike?" she said eagerly, trying to turn. He was like her second-most-trusted person. And if Spike was here, that meant Buffy was, too.

"No, it's me," a familiar voice answered.

_Oh. Angel._

Well, Buffy was probably still here.

"Can you untie me?" she asked urgently. Behind her, she felt him begin to cut through the ropes with a knife.

She'd always wondered if vampires could just do that with their teeth, but now was probably not the time to ask.

Finally free, she turned to face Angel, but to her surprise he immediately scooped her up into her arms. "We're going to make a run for it, okay? I think Buffy and Faith can handle this."

"The window's too small," Dawn pointed out helpfully. She'd spent the first twenty minutes assessing her escape opportunities. "We'll have to go back through the house."

"That's okay," he said, pushing through the door.

Facing the other way, she didn't see what happened. She just felt Angel stagger back in pain, and felt a less friendly pair of arms grab her. Glory's nails scratched her arms as she struggled to free herself.

"Come on, kid, you know it's useless," the hellgod whispered, gripping her even more tightly. Dawn looked behind her frantically, and saw that Angel was trying to remove the jeweled dagger from near his heart. It wasn't wooden; Glory had aimed to hurt, not kill.

Dawn began to scream, and scream, and scream. _Please, somebody, help me before the world ends…_

* * *

><p>She'd know that sound anywhere. She'd heard it a million times – during tickle fights or in the middle of the night after a scary movie. <em>Maybe it wasn't real, but it was real to me.<em>

Buffy didn't even bother to kill the minion in her way; she used her sword to push him (her? they?) away and ran to the source of the noise. Dawn was getting more distant and muffled, like someone was covering her mouth, but she was still screaming.

Up the stairs, and up some more. That room – no. That room – no. Was she getting closer?

Ah. The balcony.

The door was still open, and Buffy almost froze at what she saw after the first step.

She hadn't been able to see from the street, but Glory's minions had made an addition to the balcony. The railing was broken off, and the wood was extended to form a long plank. It looked horribly unstable, _just like Glory herself_, she thought numbly. And her baby sister stood at the end of it, hands bound. A man Buffy didn't recognize held a knife to her throat, while Glory recited a hideous language in a mad voice.

"Oh, look," Glory said, pausing from her garbled sounds. "Big sis came to the party after all."

She tried to push her way forward, but Glory pinned her to the wall with one high-heeled boot. Buffy struggled against the pressure, gasping for air and unable to do anything except watch as the inhuman man sliced open her sister's wrist.

"That's strange," he said, in his odd voice. "Nothing's happening."

"Ugh, you moron!" Glory shouted. She stalked over to him. _She's forgotten that I'm here_, Buffy realized.

_Maybe I wasn't too late after all_.

Before Glory could reach her sister, Buffy was there, executing a well-placed kick to the hellgod's skinny ass. It caught her off balance, as she'd meant it to, and Glory fell over the edge.

But, Buffy soon realized, she hadn't fallen all the way. The blonde was still holding to the splintered edges of the balcony, clinging to it as if she would die from the fall. As Buffy readied her foot for a final kick, Glory's face seemed to change. Her features slowly transformed, hair becoming shorter and darker and eyes becoming warmer.

By the time Ben was recognizable, Buffy had already pushed him off the ledge.

Her head spun – _Ben was Glory all along? That explains _– but she couldn't dwell on it. She had to save her sister. At least the blood hadn't worked, for whatever reason. Maybe the timing was wrong, or maybe…

"Ah, there we go," said the man, looking even less human. A snake tongue flicked out of his mouth in an expression of pleasure. "Much better."

A sound erupted from the ground, sort of a cross between a roar and a horrible sucking. Buffy closed her eyes and stepped onto the balcony.

"_Big sis", huh? But I'm not._

_They made Dawn out of me. She _is _me, and I'm her. So if I take her place, everything should go back to the way it was. If I can get myself into that – that swirling vortex of doom, she'll be fine and everyone will be fine._

The man hadn't noticed her presence, or that she'd pushed Glory off the building. She only had a second, but she used it to sweep her leg under his feet, tripping him. Before he could right himself, she hit him squarely in the face.

He toppled.

"The night is darkest just before the dawn," she said to herself.

Dawn was crying. "I'm sorry, Buffy, I couldn't stop it – Spike's plan didn't work, and now – "

"Shh," Buffy said, half-conscious. She wanted to pause, give Dawn a moment of comfort, an inspiring speech, but there was no time. The portal was growing and growing, overtaking the yard, the fence, the prone corpse of Ben…

"Go back inside."

She took a deep breath. The tingles on the back of her neck were getting stronger and stronger, until a black-and-white flash flew past her. Before she registered what – who it was, the tingles were fading and she was already airborne, diving after him into a hellpit.

Dawn's cries were even louder.

Spike and Buffy were gone.

* * *

><p>She knew now that Spike had lied to her. He'd told her that he was giving her his blood to contaminate hers and keep it from being effective. Maybe that had been part of the truth, and maybe that was why the first blood hadn't opened the portal.<p>

But this – throwing himself in her place, this was his plan all along. He'd taken a lot of her blood. He'd only given her a little of his, not enough to turn her into a vampire. He took her blood in hopes that it would fool the magic into believing he _was_ her.

_Damn him_, Dawn thought savagely.

Buffy's plan (if she could call it that) had been along the same lines, but simpler. They already had the same blood. "Summers blood", Buffy had said once. Essentially, they were the same person.

Both of them, Spike and Buffy, were just self-sacrificial morons. And they were both lost to her forever.

She didn't go inside. She just sat on the balcony and tried to run out of tears before she ran out of blood.

* * *

><p>"This is very unusual," One of Them said. Their names may not be described here, as they are generally beyond human comprehension.<p>

The Second of Them would have cleared their throat, if they had a corporeal form. "Yet it is in the law laid down by the Greatest since forever and ever and until forever and ever. We must grant these Earth-people their boon."

The Third of Them wrapped their spirit around the very concept they were considering. "Lives, yes, that is petty and I have no argument. Give the mortals and semi-mortals their lives a thousand times for all I care. Yet this is a greater gift."

"The spark has been there," allowed the One slowly. "It can be assured that this incident was purposeful."

"And the law says…" the Second said again.

The Third protested. "The law was not created to apply to this pestilence, these…vampires. Semi-mortals they are, above mortals in their longevity but below them in their lack of an immortal soul. Great magic is required to return it, and a mortal representative must give their word for it."

"Did _she _not give it?" asked the One. The Second did something like a nod of approval. "In that last moment, she shielded the semi-mortal. She not only won back her own life – she entangled their souls."

"It's true, it's true," sighed the Second. "Not one, but two, not two, but one. It is beyond even Our power to rend them apart."

"Then it is decided," said the Third. "Grant them their boon, and allow Me to leave this dimension. It gives Me such an awful pain to strip my form down into seven aspects."

And it was so.

* * *

><p>She was first conscious of the grass beneath her, then of the cool wind blowing across her arms. Her name came to her, as if through a deep fog. <em>Buffy…<em>what a silly name.

Then everything rushed back, and she sat up. "Dawn," she said. _Where is she?_ "And…"

Spike was beside her. He looked as bad as she felt on the outside, but somehow she knew that she could feel his inside and he felt…bright. Glowing. "What happened?" he asked, in a surprisingly sedate voice. His brow furrowed, as if he was trying to remember. "Where's Dawn?"

She could still hear her crying – or was that her imagination? Was any of this real?

"Dawn!" she called, cupping her hands together. She didn't feel any different for having dived into an interdimensional portal. Had she died again?

A movement on the balcony stilled her thoughts. Dawn gazed down on them. "Buffy? Spike?" she asked in disbelief. "How?"

Buffy shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine."

"The portal must have spit us back out," Spike said, laughing a little with joy rather than real humor. "Who gives a bloody damn? We're alive!"

"Alive," Buffy repeated, smiling so hard she thought she would burst.

* * *

><p>Later, after all of the celebrating and confusion, she was beyond ecstatic to just rest. Angel had offered them all rooms again, and Buffy was more than ready to just sleep until she couldn't sleep any more.<p>

She was sitting on the bed to take her shoes off when she heard a knock at the door. "Coming!"

Spike stood there, framed in the light from the hallway. "I wasn't sure if we were still – if you want me to find somewhere else, I can. The Poof has about a thousand rooms in here, and half of them don't have windows so it's not a problem if - "

Buffy pulled him inside, shut the door, and pushed him against it. "Has anybody ever told you that you talk _way_ too much?" she teased, leaning in for a gentle kiss.

They settled into the bed, too tired to do much more than share a few brief kisses and caresses. Buffy pulled away from the fifth "good night and I'm glad we survived" kiss and noticed again what she'd felt before.

It wasn't really that Spike was _different_, more that he was…more. Like he'd steadily been becoming more and then wham, all at once he was. More.

Not to her, necessarily, although that was true too. But it was like a seed of something had been growing and all of a sudden it was in bloom. Or like a spark had turned into a blazing fire.

_Wow, almost dying sure makes me poetic_.

Whatever it was, it was making him glow and shine. All of the doubts she'd had about him and their relationship seemed at that moment laughable. Despite everything he'd been, Spike was good now, and he was good for her.

"Hey," she said, nearly falling asleep.

"Hey," he repeated, in that tone that meant he was almost laughing at her.

Buffy moved a little closer in their embrace. "I love you."

She fell asleep before she heard his reply, but that was okay. She knew. She'd known all along.

* * *

><p><em>fin<em>


End file.
